No Bravery
by tutncleo
Summary: Inspired by a story on depression in law enforcement. My take on what could happen with our team. Slash warning.
1. Chapter 1

"**No Bravery" **

**Chapter One**

It was getting darker, but Tony didn't care. He was past caring, and had been for some time. The pain was almost gone now, replaced by blessed numbness. He wouldn't have minded the pain, up until a few weeks ago. It would have served to remind him that he was still alive. But lately, being alive had just become a condition he was trying to deal with, not something to celebrate. He wasn't even sure when it had gotten so bad. It wasn't like one of those things where you could point to a specific moment and say, 'This is it. When _this_ happened, it all started to go downhill.' Things had been sliding for a long time; it had just taken him a while to catch on.

For the past several months, it had been one bad case after another. Not that he should have been surprised. They didn't get called out to investigate when things went well, but still, there were levels of terrible. There were murders, and then there were _murders_, and lately, all they seemed to catch were the latter kind. Innocent wives killed, children mutilated, young men, still little more than boys, beaten beyond recognition. All dead . Beyond saving by the time Tony and the team learned about them. Most of the time they solved the case, found the perpetrator, and brought them to justice. But it didn't seem to be enough anymore. There was always someone else out there, someone more vicious, more screwed up, just waiting for their turn to hurt and kill.

Now, one of them had found Tony. And he didn't care.

Maybe if he'd been the only one affected by all the crap, it wouldn't have been so bad. But he wasn't. McGee was seeking solace more and more in his writing. Abby now spent several nights a week with the nuns, and even Ziva had taken to grimacing every time the team's phone rang. Then there was Gibbs.

Gibbs. Tony's rock. The man on whom he'd pinned all his hopes and dreams. The Gibbs Tony knew and loved had simply stopped showing up. Not that he didn't come to work; he did. He wasn't the same though. When Tony looked in his eyes now, he saw no bravery. No spark. He looked tired, and sad. So very sad. And if Gibbs couldn't be brave anymore, then neither could Tony.

When they went home at night, silence reigned in the house. Gibbs went to the basement, and Tony sat in the den, staring at the television, which he watched on mute more often than not. They still came together to make love, but that was different, too. It was driven by desperation now, not passion. They both seemed to be seeking a release that eluded them; and after they were done, they clung to each other, not speaking. Both seemingly afraid to say anything, for fear of what might come out. When they finally let go, Tony would lie awake, listening for the deep even sounds that signaled Gibbs' journey into slumber, but they never seemed to come anymore. Instead, Gibbs lay on the other side of the bed. Pretending, just like Tony; both of them pretending they were asleep. Pretending it didn't hurt. Pretending they were okay.

But that was almost over. The knife had seen to that. All that was left was the waiting.

As he lay on the ground, surrounded by his own blood, Tony couldn't even be sure if he'd put up a fight. It seemed so long ago. He vaguely remembered seeing Dietrich approaching him, knife drawn. And he could almost recall the feel of the blade sinking in to his shoulder, and the agony when it was drawn downward. But it was like watching a silent movie without the captions. The images were there, but something was missing. That something that would make it seem real; make him feel - pain, fear, regret, relief - anything.

Tony was so alone.

He tried listening. He couldn't see or feel anything anymore, but maybe he could hear something. He didn't think he wanted to die in complete isolation. Somehow that didn't seem right. People were supposed to pass surrounded by loved ones, not abandoned in an alley. Maybe this was fitting though, he thought. He'd been alone for awhile now. Living inside a kind of bubble of his own construct, that let him see out and others in, and yet provided a barrier so no real connection could be made. He'd let it envelop him, insulate him from the ugliness of his work. It had shrouded him, hidden his sorrow, letting others see only the shiny surface he tried to maintain, hear only the carefully scripted words he chose to share.

The sounds of distant laughter permeated his fog. Tony tried to imagine who it was. People rushing by, on their way to dinner or the movies, carefree, enjoying each other's company. He could see them in his mind's eye, holding hands, embracing, smiling at each other, oblivious to everything else around them. He'd been like that. Once it hadn't mattered where he and Gibbs went. Anywhere was perfect, as long as they were going there together. Just the feel of Gibbs' shoulder against his own had been enough to warm him. The shared intimacy of the head slaps that only he and the older man understood, the joy of a dinner shared at their favorite restaurant, these were things he missed.

Now they never went out. Now they lived behind a door that was bolted, keeping the world at bay and them inside. It had been fine at first, but somehow it had gone too far. The locked door had become a barrier, then a wall. Now it was a moat, too wide and deep to negotiate, that existed not just between them and the world, but also between each other. Tony hadn't known how to fix that. But that didn't matter anymore, he reminded himself. Not now.

He stopped listening. They were just strangers, after all, not the person Tony really wanted – needed - missed.

* * *

Gibbs sat at a small table in the back of the little cafe, mindlessly sipping on a coffee. He'd taken to coming here in the afternoons when they weren't out on a case. It was quiet, and no one bothered him. Lately he would use any excuse that got him out of the bullpen, away from file after file that just documented more suffering. Away from his team. He couldn't stand the way they all looked at him, McGee, Abby, Ducky, even Ziva. Bruised, aching, wanting him to somehow make it better. As if he could. And Tony, Tony was the worst. He didn't look at Gibbs anymore. Not really. Not when they were at work, and not when they were home.

It was like living alone again. They'd come home, lock their weapons in the safe, and then go their separate ways. It was easier like that, and easy was something they both seemed to need. Getting through the day took all of Gibbs' energy, and most of Tony's too, he suspected. He didn't have any to spare once he closed the front door behind them. He would retreat to the basement every evening, even though he hadn't built anything for a long time. He needed it, the familiarity it offered, the soothing scent of the wood he kept piled along the wall, waiting, full of promise. Once, Tony would have come down with him and sat quietly, watching him work. Content just to be near him. Not anymore. Now he sat in the darkened den, staring at the television.

And Gibbs didn't know what to do.

This wasn't like the endings to his marriages. Those had been loud and explosive, filled with fury and accusations. Being apart had been a relief. It wasn't like that with Tony. They didn't avoid each other out of anger. He didn't know why things had changed. It had just happened, slowly, imperceptibly, and now Gibbs didn't know how to make it right. If they'd fought, hurled painful words at each other, apologies could be made. But they hadn't. Maybe they were both just too tired. Tired of all the crap they dealt with on a daily basis. Tired of buoying up the rest of the team. Tired of pretending there were no wounds.

Gibbs stood up and took his coffee cup to the counter for a refill. He couldn't stay here forever, but he had time for one more. The girl at the register automatically reached for his cup. She didn't bother trying to talk to him. She'd done that before, and had been rewarded with only a curt word or a grunt. Wordlessly he received his drink, dropped some change in the tips jar, and went back to his table. Like a wine connoisseur, he held the paper cup to his nose. Letting everything else fall away for a moment, he closed his eyes and inhaled, allowing the aroma to seep through his body. For a brief moment he felt normal again. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend it was months ago, before all the shit had started to pile up, before he and Tony had started co-existing in separate vacuums. That was why he kept coming here, to have these momentary respites.

He and Tony had been good, better than good, really. They fit together comfortably, their very different temperaments and energies complimenting, rather than clashing with the other's. Tony had made him laugh again and feel younger, more alive. He had provided Tony with a safe place to be himself, to be more than the goofy, womanizing frat boy that somehow stumbled into law enforcement. They hadn't needed long, agonizing talks where they bared their souls. They seemed to understand each other without a lot of words, had formed a rhythm that they marched in sync to. But then there had been one really bad case after another. The kinds of cases you couldn't just brush off, the kind that came back to haunt you night after night in your sleep, and the rhythm had stuttered. A dinner alone, an evening apart, a planned outing canceled. Before he was even aware of it, they were only coming together at night, in the dark, when they couldn't see the disappointment in the other's eyes.

Before Gibbs could sink any further down into the gloom, his phone rang, snapping him out of his reminiscences.

"Gibbs," he grunted.

"Boss, it's McGee. We just got a hit on the APB. Someone thinks they saw Dietrich about twenty minutes ago." Gibbs noticed how McGee's voice lacked the enthusiasm that once infused it every time a case started to heat up.

"On my way," Gibbs told him.

"What about Tony?" McGee asked him.

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"Isn't he with you?"

"No…" He waited for McGee to go on.

"He left here about forty five minutes ago, saying he was going for coffee. Just figured he was with you."

"Call him on his cell. Tell him I want him back in the bullpen before I get there."

"On it," McGee responded automatically, even as Gibbs disconnected.

A break. It seemed like forever since they had caught a break. When they had gotten the alert that Dietrich had drawn a knife on several of his friends the night before, threatening to kill them before he'd run away, Gibbs had figured it would just be a matter of time before they were investigating the murder of one of his victims. Maybe, for the first time in a long time, they could actually catch someone before he killed or maimed someone!

Gibbs slid the phone back in his pocket, and headed for the door, feeling better than he had in weeks.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

"**No Bravery" **

**Chapter Two**

Gibbs hurried as he walked back to the Yard. For the first time in a long time, he was feeling almost optimistic about a case. Maybe they could actually prevent something bad from happening this time. Maybe the good guys would really win today. Maybe this case would help them start to turn things around. And if that happened, then maybe, with luck, he and Tony could start to heal what was broken.

Just thinking that seemed to ease a little of the pressure that had been weighing him down.

When he got to the bullpen, Tony was nowhere in sight. Ziva was on the phone, and McGee was typing into his computer. Both of them looked up in trepidation. They seemed to almost shrink away from him. 'Had it gotten that bad?' he wondered with a start. He'd always worked to keep his team on their toes, but he'd never wanted them to truly fear him. How long had this been going on and how could he have been so oblivious? It had to stop, here and now, Gibbs decided. They took their cues from him. He was the team leader, the one everyone looked to. He was going to have to pull himself out of his slump, and then he was going to have to work on fixing his team. And the only way he knew how to do that was through the work, so that's how he'd start.

"What have we got?" he barked.

"Two police officers in a squad car thought they saw Dietrich on the street, not far from here.  
But by the time they had parked, and gone to investigate, he had disappeared. They called it in, and Metro called us. McGee has the address where he was spotted," Ziva shot to her feet as she reported rapidly.

"Let's go, then," Gibbs said. "DiNozzo getting the car?"

"Um, no, Boss," McGee cringed. "He didn't answer his cell when I called."

"He'll have to catch up with us then," Gibbs said as he moved towards the elevator. He didn't like the notion of going out on a call without Tony, and he liked it even less that no one knew where his senior agent was, but that couldn't be helped. If they had a chance of getting to Dietrich, they had to take it. There was too much riding on this.

Despite what he had said, though, Gibbs pulled his cell out and tried to get Tony on the phone as the elevator descended. It rang several times, and then went to voice mail. 'No point in leaving a message,' Gibbs thought. If he isn't answering the phone, he's not going to listen to a message. His infamous gut began to churn. It had been a while since it had talked to him, or more accurately, a while since he had listened to it, and what it was saying didn't make him happy. Had Tony finally had too much? Could he really have gotten so fed up, so despondent that he walked off the job? Tony had run before, from other jobs, but that was a long time ago; before NCIS, before them. Tony could have hit his breaking point though. Had he, Gibbs, been so lost in his own miseries that he'd failed to notice how close to the edge the person that mattered most to him was?

Before he could follow that line of thinking further, the elevator doors opened, and they were in the parking garage. Time to do his job. Pulling the keys out from his jacket pocket, he moved towards the car, the others sliding in behind him.

It took them almost no time to get to where the sighting had reportedly happened. A black and white was parked next to the curb, and two LEOs were leaning against its side. Gibbs pulled the charger up next to them, and hopped out.

"NCIS?" the older of the two policemen asked. He was a stocky guy, in his late thirties, with a receding head of sandy brown hair, and an expanding waistline that gave testimony to too much food, but his face was alert, open, and friendly. There was something about him that put Gibbs immediately at ease. This guy had been around a while, was nobody's fool, and yet still seemed to like his job. The irony of that observation did not escape Gibbs.

"Yeah, I'm Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, and these are Agents McGee and David," he answered, holding out his hand, as Ziva and Tim nodded at the policemen.

"Dan Spencer, and this is my partner, Officer Cal Trenton," he indicated to the tall, thin brunette to his left. "We're almost one hundred percent sure it was Dietrich we saw. We had his picture from the APB with us, and this guy looked just like it. Plus, he was wearing BDUs, so that makes it even more likely. Sorry we didn't get to him in time."

"Don't apologize," Gibbs grunted. "Tell me exactly what you saw."

"Cal saw him first," Spencer told Gibbs, who was busily engaged in scanning the area as he listened.

"He was just leaning up against the side of that building," the younger officer volunteered, pointing to a bank across the street. "He looked kind of out of it, that's why I noticed him at first. He must have seen us start to pull over."

"Did you see which way he went?" Gibbs asked.

"Nah, wish I had," the man told him. "There was a lot of traffic, and we both had to watch for pedestrians and cars as we were parking. By the time I could look back over, he was gone."

"McGee," Gibbs said.

"Going to get the bank's surveillance videos now," McGee answered, as he moved to cross the busy street, heading off to talk to the bank officials.

Looking back at the policemen, Gibbs asked, "Did you talk to anyone in the bank? Any of the people from the neighboring buildings?"

"We asked around in the bank, but no one seemed to have noticed him. Didn't canvas the surrounding buildings. Thought we'd come back to the car and wait for you guys. We were hoping he might come back this way," Officer Spencer supplied.

"What did you mean, 'He looked kind of out of it'? " Gibbs demanded of the partner.

"You know, spacey, not all there. He was really rumpled and kind of dirty. Thought he might be a junkie at first, then I remembered the APB," Officer Trenton explained.

"Was he doing anything?"

"No, not really. He was just staring to his right, as if he were kind of watching for something," the cop answered.

'That was interesting,' Gibbs thought silently. If he was watching for something, maybe he went in that direction.

'Damn it, where are you, Tony? I could really use you,' Gibbs said to himself. They needed to look in that direction, but the officers were right, too. There was a chance Dietrich would swing back this way, and he wanted to be able to leave one of their team here, with the cops, just in case. He and Ziva were going to have to split up.

"Ziva, you stay here. Keep an eye out for Dietrich. I'm gonna go a few blocks in the direction he was looking. Maybe I'll get lucky," he told her.

"Want some company?" the older officer asked.

Gibbs thought about it for a second. He didn't like the idea of going off without anyone at his back. He'd gotten used to taking it for granted that Tony would always be there. But looking for someone with a uniformed cop by your side wasn't exactly keeping a low profile. If Dietrich had run because he saw the black and white, he'd run from the officer, too.

"Nah, he might bolt if he saw you," Gibbs told Spencer. "You guys should stay here with Officer David."

Ziva didn't look pleased, but there wasn't much to be done about that. None of them had been happy for a while, so what difference did a few more minutes make, Gibbs thought as he began to walk. His gut was still active, signaling to him that something was going to happen. Maybe one of them would see Dietrich, and they could end the day on a high note.

Gibbs walked down the street, scanning the people and the store fronts, hoping for a sign of Dietrich or something that would explain his presence in the area. It was late afternoon, and people were beginning to leave work for home, so the sidewalks were crowded. It made it easy to blend in, but hard to see everything. The businesses were the standard fare. Banks, electronics stores, restaurants and Korean delis lined the blocks. Nothing that seemed to stand out; nothing special that might have drawn Dietrich to the area. He walked for several blocks and saw all types of people. Businessmen, mothers with their children, tourists, and even street people, but no sign of Dietrich.

Deciding he couldn't just keep going without any real direction, he turned around and started to head back. The adrenaline rush he'd felt earlier was beginning to fade along with the afternoon sun. He had to work to shake of the familiar sense of discouragement as it tried to resurface. He wasn't going to give in to it, not this time. He might not have found Dietrich yet, but they were closer. He'd been here. That much they were almost positive of. McGee would get the surveillance tapes, and that might give them more clues. They were going to nail this bastard, and this time they were going to do it before someone got killed.

Gibbs was only a block away from where he started, when he heard a loud commotion. Down the block, by an alley opening, there was a tiny elderly Asian man, yelling something in his native tongue and waving his arms. The passer-bys on the street were giving him a wide berth, either unwilling to detour from their original destinations, or afraid of the frantic looking man. Gibbs broke into a run. Something was clearly wrong. Although he couldn't hear him clearly, the man seemed to be calling for help.

"Calm down," he told the man, when he reached him. "Take a breath. Do you speak English?"

The man nodded, and babbled something in what Gibbs recognized as Korean. Seeing that he wasn't getting through to Gibbs, the man reached out and grabbed Gibbs' forearm. "Hurt. Hurt very bad," he said urgently in broken English, as he pulled Gibbs towards the alley.

Deciding the man posed no threat, Gibbs allowed himself to be dragged into the alleyway, being careful of where he put his feet. It was that haunting time of day, when the sun hadn't really set, but was low enough that tall buildings cast long ominous shadows, so it was getting dark in the passage.

Once he was sure Gibbs would follow him, the man let go of his arm and hurried forward, moving at an amazing clip for a man his age. As he went, he turned and waved for Gibbs to follow. About halfway down, the old guy stopped and pointed, once again speaking in a rush of Korean. At his feet was a figure.

Gibbs caught up with him, and looked down, getting his first real look at the body. It was a man, dressed in what looked like one of those expensive suits that Tony favored. He was curled into a fetal position, his face hidden by an arm. There was a lot of blood on the ground, although Gibbs couldn't see the source from where he stood, and he had no idea if the man was alive or dead. Just as Gibbs was about to kneel down to investigate further, one of man's feet twitched. He was alive, Gibbs realized. Before doing anything further, Gibbs pulled his cell phone out and called 911, giving them his location and asking for an ambulance. Then he squatted on the ground in front of the wounded man, and gently reached out for the arm that was covering his face. As he eased the arm away, he wasn't prepared for what he saw.

There, in a puddle of his own blood, lay Tony. Gibbs was afraid for a moment that he was going to be sick. His heart started to pound, and his pulse raced. 'Not helping,' he reprimanded himself silently. Pulling himself together, he knelt closer. He could see that the front of Tony's jacket was covered in blood. Gibbs reached out and gently rolled him onto his back. Tony's eyes were closed, and he seemed to be barely breathing. There was an ugly gash on the left side of his body, starting at his shoulder and going down past his collar bone. Blood was still slowly oozing out, but not at an alarming rate. He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. It could mean that the wound was starting to close, or it could also mean that Tony was merely running out of blood. He had no way of knowing.

"Tony?" Gibbs called out softly, as he took off his jacket and pressed it over the wound, in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. He got no answer.

"Tony?" he tried again desperately. Tony just lay there. Gibbs reached for his phone again. Hitting a key, he speed dialed McGee.

"McGee," he barked into the phone when the younger man answered. "It's Gibbs. I'm in the alley on the south side of the bank. Tony's here and he's hurt. I've already called an ambulance, but get on the horn and make sure they're hurrying. Then get another team here to help. I don't want a single piece of evidence to be missed." With that said, Gibbs hung back up, and turned his attention back to his lover.

Tony hadn't moved. Gibbs lightly pressed a finger to his neck, feeling for a pulse. At first he couldn't find one, and his hand began to shake. Then, finally, he located it. It was so faint!

"Tony, it's Jethro. Come on, Tony, open your eyes. Please." Gibbs could hear the panic in his own voice, and he tried to push it down, but his blood was rushing through his ears, and his breathing was becoming too rapid and shallow. This was his worst nightmare.

It was a loud rush of Korean that snapped him out of it. He looked up as he remembered the other man. The elderly Korean was looking down at him in a mixture of confusion and concern. Pulling out his badge, Gibbs waved it at the man.

"Federal agent. I'm a federal agent. Understand?" The man nodded.

"This is one of my agents," he explained. The man squinted his eyes, which deepened the creases on his face. Gibbs could tell he hadn't followed that.

"Ambulance. I called an ambulance," he tried. This time the man nodded again.

"Go find," Gibbs said, pointing to the end of the alley. "Go find ambulance. Bring here."

The man stood there for a second, clearly trying to work through Gibbs' meaning, and then he bobbed his head vigorously, said, "Yes," and hurried away.

Gibbs reached out and brushed the bangs off Tony's face with one hand, while his other one gently caressed his cheek.

"Tony, you're going to be fine," he whispered into his ear. Gibbs wasn't sure if he was promising or begging. Sliding an arm under Tony, he scooped him up and pulled him close. Everything he'd ever been told about how to handle an injured person seemed to desert him. He didn't care who saw them or what they thought. He needed to hold Tony's body close. To feel his heart beating against his own. To reassure himself that the man he loved was still alive. Tony's head lulled to the side, and Gibbs reached out with his other arm, and drew it to his own shoulder, cradling it in place. And then he began to gently rock the younger man, softly crooning words of comfort.

That was how they were sitting when McGee, Ziva, the Korean man, and a team of paramedics descended.

Somehow, Gibbs managed to let go of Tony, and the paramedics began to examine him. Gibbs distractedly grunted out a few orders to McGee and Ziva, about securing the scene and gathering evidence, but his real focus was on Tony. The paramedics had immediately started him on oxygen and now they were getting ready to put him on the gurney. As they were moving him, blood began to gush from Tony's wound again. The EMTs scrambled to try and make it stop. A pressure dressing of some sort was applied to the wound, and they began to rush the gurney towards the ambulance. They weren't leaving without him, Gibbs thought, as he scrambled to follow. There was no way he was letting Tony out of his sight.

When they had the gurney secured in the back, and they were working on hooking Tony up to IVs, Gibbs climbed in. He didn't bother asking permission, and the EMTs didn't question his right to be there, even though the ambulance was already too crowded. As they pulled away, Gibbs sat quietly on the side, trying to stay out of the men's way, watching as Tony was hooked up to one piece of equipment after another. The panic was returning, and his heart started to pound again. What if Tony died? What if his last memories of them as a couple were the wretched emptiness of the last few months? Gibbs made silent promises to himself and any god that might be listening about how things would be different, if only Tony lived.


	3. Chapter 3

"**No Bravery"**

**Chapter Three**

Tony died on the way to the hospital.

Twice.

The first time his heart stopped they immediately intubated him, and then started CPR. Gibbs held his breath as the flat line on the heart monitor jumped once, then twice, and then began to even out into a more reassuring rhythm. Once that happened, the paramedics went to work reassessing his vitals, as they talked to the hospital over the radio. Asystole, excessive blood loss, stroke, shock, possible internal bleeding were all being discussed, but all Gibbs could do was watch the readout on the monitor that proved to him that Tony's heart was still beating.

His own heart had just started to regulate when Tony died again.

"V-Fib!" one of the paramedics announced hurriedly, as he studied the monitor.

This time they administered some kind of drug, and then scrambled around in the already too crowded cabin of the ambulance. A defibrillator was readied, and Gibbs watched as gel was applied and the paddles were pressed to Tony's chest, while the paramedics worked to stay clear of the metal surrounding the gurney.

"Nothing," the paramedic told his partner. Gibbs' breathing became erratic as he sat there helplessly.

They tried again. The same results. He saw the two paramedics look at each other. 'Were they going to give up?' he wondered in horror.

"Once more," one of them said, right before Gibbs was about to demand they try again, or he grabbed the paddles himself. More gel was applied, and then the paddles were placed on Tony again. He jerked against the gurney straps as electricity surged through his body, but then, miraculously, his heart began to beat more evenly. Another hurried conference with the hospital ensued, and more meds were pushed into the IVs.

Gibbs was bordering on collapse by the time the ambulance pulled up to Bethesda's emergency room doors. He followed as Tony was rushed inside and medical personnel descended on the gurney, only to have a nurse stop him as the paramedics pushed Tony into a trauma room.

"Sorry, Sir," she said, "but you're going to need to go to the waiting room."

"I'm his medical proxy," Gibbs argued.

"That's good to know, and someone will be out very shortly to see you. But for right now, the doctors need to work on stabilizing him, and you need to let them do their jobs," she told him in a patient, reassuring voice.

Gibbs numbly allowed himself to be led to the waiting room, and into a chair. The nurse patted him on the back sympathetically, promised they'd let him know what was going on as soon as they had something to report, and then she departed.

Gibbs sat in the chair, oblivious to the covert glances the others in the waiting room were sending his way. He was still trying to process what had happened on the way over here. Tony had died, twice, right before his eyes, and he'd been powerless to do anything to help. He could remember only one other time he'd felt this useless, and that had been a long time ago.

He hadn't been there when Shannon and Kelly had died, he'd been overseas. He used to tell himself that if he'd been home, it never would have happened. He'd spend sleepless night after sleepless night thinking about the ways he would have prevented it. But maybe that hadn't been true, he realized now. He had been there for Tony, and still this had happened. 'You're just kidding yourself,' he thought with shame. He hadn't been there for Tony, not in any way that really counted. Not in the alley, not on the job, and not at home.

Gibbs pushed himself back up onto his feet. He couldn't just sit there. He needed to move, to do something, anything, to ward off the sense of dread that was starting to build. Not willing to leave the room for even a second until he had some idea of what was happening with Tony, he began to pace aimlessly.

Eventually a middle aged, scrub clad nurse appeared, carrying a clipboard. She stood in the door to the waiting room, scanning the room, looking for someone. When she saw Gibbs, she headed his way.

"Are you the person that came in with Mr. DiNozzo?" she inquired.

"How is he?" Gibbs demanded.

"Why don't we sit go sit down?" she suggested, not answering his question. "I need to get some information from you, and then I'll tell you what is happening."

Gibbs didn't want to sit down, or answer a slew of question; he wanted to know how Tony was, but once again he found himself settled in one of the hard plastic chairs scattered around the room.

The woman sat next to him, and reached up to pull a pen from the dark brown ponytail at the back of her head. Once she had the clipboard positioned on her lap, and the pen poised to write, she began by assuring him that Tony was holding his own, and then proceeded. "We have some information on him already. It seems he's been here quite a few times, so we can skip all the basics. Do you know whether he is presently on any medications?"

"No, none," Gibbs responded.

"Any idea when he ate or drank something last, and if so, what?" she continued.

Gibbs just shook his head. He had no clue. No idea whether Tony had eaten lunch, or breakfast, or even a snack. Just like he didn't know how Tony had ended up in that alley. He hadn't paid attention. Not today, yesterday, or even the week before.

"Sir?" the nurse was saying, as she studied him. He looked back up at her.

"Sir, are you alright?" she asked in concern.

'No, I'm not alright,' the silent monologue in his head snapped. 'I'm about as far from alright as you can get.' But aloud, he just said, "Yeah, fine." She looked at him as if she doubted that, but continued on.

"I asked if Mr. DiNozzo has a history of heart disease or hypertension."

"No, he's healthy," Gibbs assured her.

"Except for the damage to his lungs," the nurse commented.

"Yeah, except for that," he agreed.

"Our records show no allergies to any medications. Do you know whether that's still the case?"

"As far as I know," Gibbs said impatiently. They were going over ground that should be in the charts. He wanted to know about how Tony was right now, and what they were doing. The nurse paused and looked at him, hearing the irritation in his voice.

"I know you're worried, but we needed to confirm all this. The doctors are working on trying to stabilize him. Once they've done that, they're going to send him up to surgery, to repair the damage from the stabbing. This information is important. We don't want to make any avoidable mistakes and jeopardize his life any further."

'Jeopardize his life any further,' echoed in his ears. Gibbs could feel the tension building in his back and shoulders as the room started to swim in and out of focus.

"I need you to sign this consent form," the nurse was saying.

"For?" Gibbs asked in confusion, not really thinking as clearly as he'd like.

"The surgery. They want to get him up there as fast as they're able," she told him, as she set the clipboard on his lap and pointed to the appropriate line. Gibbs signed the form robotically. "Thank you. As soon as they get him up to surgery, one of the ER doctors will be out to give you more details," she said, as she stood to go.

And then he was alone again.

Gibbs lost track of time. He sat in that chair, too worried to think clearly. Images of Tony - lying in the alley in a pool of blood, cradled in Gibbs' arms with his head lulled backwards, strapped to the gurney as the EMTs worked frantically to restart his heart - those were what kept flashing across his mind, blocking out anything else. When someone reached out and touched his shoulder, he nearly jumped out of his own skin.

"Mr. Gibbs?" the man standing in front of him asked.

"Agent," he replied automatically, as he attempted to re-center himself.

"Agent Gibbs," the man repeated. "I'm Dr. Tipton. I worked on Agent DiNozzo when he first came in. Thought I'd come out and let you know what's going on. Do you mind if I sit?" he asked, indicating to the chair next to Gibbs.

"Course not," Gibbs answered. "How's Tony?"

"I'm not going to lie to you. Stab wounds to the chest are never good. That being said, he's still alive, so there is hope," he paused there.

Hope? Gibbs didn't like the fact that the doctor was talking about hope. Doctors were supposed to fix things, not rely on chance.

"I understand you rode along in the ambulance, so you already know he went into cardiac arrest twice. Obviously that complicated issues. When we x-rayed the wound, we discovered the tip of the blade broke off when it hit his collar bone. It got dislodged at some point, probably as he was jostled while they were loading him up for transport. That caused even more bleeding. He's lost a great deal of blood, and is in shock. That's what's causing some of his other organs to start shutting down. The paramedics got him on oxygen quickly, so that should help stave off brain damage. We've sent him up to surgery. They'll get the tip out, and try to repair the damage done by the knife. Unfortunately, I can't make any promises. We're going to have to wait and see what happens."

None of this was what Gibbs wanted to hear. He wanted the doctor to tell him that Tony was going to be just fine. That there was nothing to worry about. That this hadn't somehow been his fault.

"When will we know something?" was what he managed to ask.

"The surgery is going to take some time. There's a lot of muscle and nerve damage to try and repair. You need to know there's a chance he could stroke or arrest again during the surgery."

Gibbs just looked at the man, mutely.

"Why don't I get someone to take you up to the surgical waiting room? That way one of the surgeons can find you when they're done," the doctor offered. Gibbs just nodded. "Is there someone you could call? Someone to come sit with you?"

This time Gibbs shook his head. Who would he call? One of the other people he'd spent the last few months neglecting? No, this was his fault, and he'd face it alone.

* * *

_He'd walked through the door of his apartment, dropped his backpack, and sunk to the floor. It had been the day after Kate had been killed, and he'd been working straight for the last twenty-four hours, using everything ounce of reserve strength he had just to keep it together. But once his door had shut, all his energy had evaporated, and he had finally been able to give in to his grief. Several hours later, when Gibbs had let himself in to Tony's apartment, he'd still been there, curled into a tight ball. Gibbs hadn't said anything. He'd just knelt down in front of him and pulled him in tightly against his chest. Tony hadn't thought, he'd just reacted. He'd wrapped his arms around the older man, clung tightly, and desperately kissed him. He hadn't known how Gibbs would respond, and he hadn't cared. That had been the first time they made love. _

_Gibbs had covered his body with his own, and together they'd mourned her passing, even as they reaffirmed their own lives. In the morning, Gibbs had been gone._

_It hadn't happened again for a long while. Ziva had arrived, and the team had slowly mended. But Gibbs had been hurt, retired to Mexico, then returned; and he had started the ill-conceived undercover mission with Jeanne. The next time had been the night after it had all blown up in his face. _

_Once again Gibbs had appeared at his apartment. They hadn't spoken, but Gibbs had held out his arms, and Tony had fallen in to them. This time Gibbs hadn't left in the morning. They had spent the day together, and that night, and the night after that. And slowly, everything had been alright again, it had stopped aching, and yet Gibbs had stayed._

Tony pushed away the memories. They weren't helping. Instead of making him feel better, they made him hurt worse. Once Gibbs had been there for him, ready to help force the demons away, but not anymore. Now Gibbs was fighting his own wars, by himself, and Tony was on his own. And he was losing.

Tony struggled to let his mind go blank again, to just drift in the haze of his new reality. It was easier this way. No allowing himself to dwell on bittersweet memories, and no need to worry about the future.

* * *

Gibbs stood in front of the window in the surgical waiting room, staring out at nothing, holding a now empty cup of coffee. A nurse had brought it to him when he'd first gotten there. He wanted more, but was afraid to leave the room, for fear someone would come with news about Tony, and he would miss them. He was completely sapped of energy. His arms and legs felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds apiece, and he was weary all the way down to his soul. It wasn't a physical exhaustion. It was spiritual. He'd been putting all his energy into willing Tony to get better, and he was starting to run dry. The fear and foreboding were beginning to win.

He was lost in thought. He wasn't sure what he'd last said to Tony, and that bothered Gibbs. Had he wished him good morning? Had he even said, "See you later," when he'd gone out that afternoon? He didn't know. Suddenly it seemed so important to remember. Maybe that was because he was positive of what he hadn't said. He hadn't said, "I love you," or "I'm proud of you," or "I don't want to go on without you." No, he hadn't said any of those things in a long time, far too long a time. Did Tony even remember when he had, and if so, did he think they were still true?

Gibbs was beginning to understand the stories about Faust and all the other fictional characters that made pacts with the devil. If he could have the chance to relive the last several months, to reverse any wounds he'd inflicted on Tony, he might willingly sell a portion of his soul. But that wasn't an option; so instead, all he could do was worry and wait.

Sensing, rather than hearing, someone enter the room, Gibbs whirled around. There in the doorway stood Ducky and Abby. Abby gasped and stared at his chest. Looking down, he was stunned to discover that his jacket and shirt were covered in Tony's dried blood. His hands involuntarily reached up, and he ran his fingers over the stiff dark stain. It must have gotten there when he was holding Tony in the alley, as he waited for the ambulance. Dots began appearing in front of his eyes, and he could hear his blood racing through his ears again. He looked back up at them in shock.

"Jethro," Ducky asked, "How are you holding up?" His voice struck Gibbs as odd, as he attempted to refocus his attention on the elderly doctor. Ducky was speaking slowly and carefully, like he was addressing a child, or someone who was sick, and he had a hand on Abby's arm, restraining her from running over to the man.

As Gibbs struggled with how to answer that question, Ducky and Abby moved closer.

"Let's go sit down, and you can tell us about Tony," Ducky suggested in a calm even voice.

'Why did everyone want to sit down today?' Gibbs wondered, as he allowed himself to be led over to the chairs once again.

"What happened?" Ducky asked, after they were all settled, he on one side of Gibbs, and Abby on the other.

"Tony was stabbed. He's in surgery now," Gibbs managed to say.

"Ah, have you heard how it's going?" Ducky asked.

Gibbs shook his head, not trusting himself to say more, as he slumped in the chair.

"I see." Ducky studied him. "Abby, why don't you go and see if you can't talk a nurse out of a clean scrub shirt, and possibly a blanket," he said, looking meaningfully over Gibbs' head at the forensic specialist. He wanted to ask more questions, to find out about Tony's condition before the surgery, but didn't think Gibbs was up to telling him right then. He didn't like what he was seeing. Gibbs was clearly in shock, and Ducky wondered why no one had done anything about it, and how he could have been allowed to stay in those blood stained clothes.

Abby caught on immediately. "Good idea. I'll be right back," she said, surging to her feet and hurrying out of the room.

Gibbs didn't comment, he just continued to stare at his lap. Reaching over, Ducky patted his knee reassuringly. "The doctors here are some of the very best. I'm sure they're doing everything they can for Anthony." When Gibbs didn't respond, Ducky fell silent as well, content to wait for Abby's return.

She was back within five minutes, a scrub shirt and blanket in one hand, and a wash cloth, towel, and plastic bag in the other. Ducky nodded gratefully at her when he saw what she had managed to procure.

"Jethro, let's you and I go find a rest room and you can get cleaned up a bit," Ducky suggested quietly.

"Can't leave. Don't want to miss the doctor," Gibbs shook his head stubbornly.

Standing up, Ducky coaxed, "Abigail will stay right here while we're gone. If they come looking for you, she'll come and get us straight away. How will that be?"

Gibbs looked up at Ducky. "Come along. You'll feel better if you splash some water on your face." He didn't want to mention anything else. Not until they were safely in the bathroom. He'd seen Gibbs' reaction to the realization that his clothes were caked in Tony's blood, and didn't think bringing that to his attention again was a good idea.

Washing his face did sound nice to Gibbs. He looked over at Abby. "Go on, Bossman," she encouraged. "I'll be right here." He nodded.

"Very good," Ducky approved, when Gibbs pushed himself to his feet. Abby handed him the items as he gently steered Gibbs out of the room.

Once they were in the bathroom, Ducky turned on the water in the sink and waited until it was warm. Then he dampened the washcloth and squirted it with soap from the dispenser. "Take of your jacket and shirt, Jethro," he instructed. "You don't want to get them wet."

Gibbs mechanically complied, and Ducky discovered that a little blood had soaked through to his undershirt, as well.

"Excellent," Ducky said. "Why don't you take your t-shirt off, too?"

When Gibbs was bare-chested, Ducky handed him the wash rag. "Here you go," he said.

Gibbs turned towards the sink and scrubbed at his face. It felt good. Leaning a little further down, he ran the cloth under the running water, and repeated the process. It seemed to be helping him clear his head. Setting the wash cloth aside, he cupped his hands, and splashed water directly onto his face.

"That's it," Ducky murmured encouragingly. "I'm going to set a towel next to the sink, for when you're done."

Gibbs was now more alert than he had been in quite a while. Reaching out, he turned the hot water off, and let the water get cold. He splashed a few more hands full on his face, and then reached for the towel to dry off. That done, he set the towel back down and turned to look at his friend.

"Feeling better?" Ducky asked.

"Yeah," Gibbs realized it was true. "Thanks," he grunted.

"Don't mention it. Here, you might want to put this on." Ducky handed him the scrub shirt. Gibbs looked over at the counter, where his discarded clothing lay. He could see the blood.

"He went into cardiac arrest twice on the way here." He was almost inaudible.

Ducky took a deep breath, trying to decide how to respond. That certainly explained a few things. There was no point in pretending that wasn't very bad news. It would be disrespectful, and a disservice, to Gibbs. "I'm very sorry to hear that, Jethro," he began. "They must have successfully stabilized him, since they were able to take him into surgery."

"I guess. The ER doc said he couldn't guarantee that Tony wouldn't stroke or arrest again, though"

"That's a risk in any surgery," Ducky pointed out. "But since it already happened, they will be watching for any warning signs with the utmost vigilance. You can be assured of that. Can you tell me what else the doctor said?"

"He said it was good the paramedics got him on oxygen fast, that that would help prevent brain damage."

"That's very true. What about the stab wound? Where was it?" McGee had been less than informative when he'd called to alert Ducky to what had happened. He'd merely said Tony had been stabbed, was in bad shape, and that Gibbs had ridden with him in the ambulance to Bethesda. Then, someone in the background had called for him, and he'd told Ducky he had to go.

"His chest," Gibbs said, and Ducky tried not to visibly react. That wasn't good news.

"Where exactly on his chest?" he pushed gently.

"His lower shoulder. It sliced over towards his collar bone." That was going to be the dangerous part, Ducky thought privately. Once the knife got near the clavicle, the risk of nicking a major artery or organ was much higher. "Tip of the blade broke off, and caused more bleeding."

"How long had he been in surgery?" Ducky then asked.

Gibbs looked at his watch. "An hour and twenty five minutes."

'That long?' Ducky thought with a start. 'Whatever had taken Timothy so long to notify him? And how exactly had this happened?' He had a lot more questions as well, but knew this wasn't the time to go in to them.

"That's good news," he told Gibbs. "That means Tony must be tolerating the surgery, and they are getting somewhere with repairing the damage from the wound. This can take quite a while, depending on what they have to mend. If there was bad news, I'm sure someone would have come out to speak with you already. You need to hold on to that, Jethro."

"I'm trying," Gibbs muttered.

"That's what Abby and I are here to help you do," Ducky told him. "It's what friends do."

Gibbs looked at Ducky. The ME was right. Friends supported their friends. That was what he'd spectacularly failed to do lately.

"Thanks, Duck," he said sincerely.

Ducky gave him a small smile, and clapped Gibbs on the back. Walking over to the ruined clothes, he said, "I'll just put these in this plastic bag, and then we'd best be getting back. Abby will be getting worried that I've been negligent and let you drown, or something else equally as bad."

Together they walked back to the waiting room, where Abby sat waiting.


	4. Chapter 4

"**No Bravery"**

**Chapter Four**

Abby sat in the waiting room, watching nervously for Ducky's and Gibbs' return. She was a bundle of pent up energy that was born from worry for Tony and Gibbs. She had been agitated when she'd arrived at the hospital, but after seeing Gibbs, covered in Tony's blood and in a state of shock, she was now feeling seriously off kilter.

She and Ducky had talked on the drive over to the hospital. It had been the first time in a long while they'd found themselves alone. It wasn't any surprise, given the circumstances, that the topic of conversation centered around Tony and Gibbs.

"I don't understand why Gibbs didn't call me. This is so unlike him," Abby had groused as they drove. Despite the fact she'd been worried sick, she was also hurt that Ducky was the one who had to tell her that Tony had been stabbed and taken to Bethesda.

"He didn't call me_, either_, Abigail," Ducky had said quietly.

"Then how…"

"Timothy. He was who alerted me," Ducky had told her. Abby had fallen silent while she absorbed that. She hadn't been able to remember the last time Gibbs had failed to call either she or Ducky when a member of the team had been hurt, especially if it had been Tony. That had always merited a call to the both of them, since Abby and Ducky were the only two people at work who knew that he and Tony were together.

"It's hinky," she'd finally announced.

"What is my dear?" Ducky had asked her, as he kept his eyes on the road.

"Gibbs….Tony…. all of it," she'd answered, not sure exactly where to begin.

"Quite," Ducky had said in agreement. They had fallen silent while they both considered that. "Abby, can you remember the last time you really spoke with Tony?" Ducky had eventually asked.

"Just this morning," she'd answered quickly, not catching his meaning.

"Not just a hello, how are you. I mean _really_ talked with him, about something other than work, or just to respond to some silly joke he made. When was the last time the two of you had a movie night, for instance?"

She'd had to stop and consider before answering that question. When was the last time she'd spent any real time with Tony? There had been the birthday party for McGee two weeks ago. But when Abby had thought about it, she'd remembered that Tony had stopped by the bar they were celebrating in just long enough to wish Tim a happy birthday, drink a quick beer, and then had excused himself, saying he wasn't feeling well. Before that….She hadn't been able to remember the last time she'd seen Tony outside of work. It had to have been at a movie night, but once she started thinking about it, she'd realized that the last one had been a few months ago.

"That is what I feared," Ducky had commented sadly when Abby had no ready answer. "It has been far too long since Jethro and I discussed anything besides a case, as well. As a matter of fact, now that I'm really thinking about it, I do believe Jethro has gone out of his way to avoid placing himself in a situation where that was possible. That should have been a warning to me, but I'm embarrassed to admit that I've been so preoccupied with everything that was going on with Mother, that I just let it slide. I'm afraid I haven't been a very good friend," he had sighed. His voice had been full of self recrimination.

Abby had sat silently for a bit, trying to recall her last few movie nights with Tony. They hadn't been as much fun as they usually were, she'd realized, as she thought back. Tony had selected the movies, as he often did, in his never ending attempt to refine what he teasingly referred to as her 'Philistine like' taste in film. And usually she enjoyed his choices, but that hadn't been the case the last couple of times. The movies he'd selected had been so dark; "Blue Velvet", "Boys Don't Cry", and even the comedy, "Buffalo '66" and the classic, "Sweet Smell of Success" had left her feeling slightly depressed. His outward behavior hadn't been any different, she remembered. He'd done what he always did – commented on the finer points of each film. But in retrospect, she remembered he'd seemed sad. So sad, actually, that she'd questioned him about it, but he'd brushed off her concern, had told her he was just tired. Why hadn't she pushed, made him talk to her, she'd chided herself.

When the invitations stopped coming, she hadn't done anything about it. She'd been busy. Sister Rosa had been diagnosed with cancer, and she'd started spending more time at the convent, helping out. The sisters needed her, they were all getting older, and it was rewarding. When she went home at night she felt better, as if she'd really made a difference, and she liked that. She'd gotten so caught up in what was going on there, that she hadn't given Tony or Gibbs much thought.

"Oh Ducky, I haven't either," she'd exclaimed, her eyes starting to fill with tears she refused to let fall. "I've been selfish. I got all involved in the stuff that was going on in my own life, and didn't pay enough attention to Tony or the bossman."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, my dear. I don't think they wanted us to. In fact, I'm fairly sure that they've gone out of their way to avoid having to discuss whatever is wrong," Ducky had consoled her.

"But that shouldn't have mattered. When have I ever respected their privacy?" Abby had answered, causing Ducky to snort with suppressed laughter.

"Abigail, you are a treasure," he'd smiled as he said.

"This ends this instant!" she'd announced firmly. "You and I are on the case now, so they aren't going to get away with hiding things anymore. We're going to get to the hospital, be there for Gibbs and Tony, and make everything better."

"From your lips to God's ears," Ducky had said.

And now Abby sat in the waiting room, fervently hoping that God wasn't going to have to intervene.

Her breath hitched when she saw Ducky and Gibbs come through the door. Gibbs was wearing the scrub shirt, and his color was better. He looked more alert, but the pallor had been replaced with a tight, closed off expression. As she studied his face, it dawned on her that he'd looked like this a lot lately, and she'd just ignored it.

Rising quickly, she rushed over to meet them. Once she reached Gibbs, she wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him in for a tight hug, ignoring it when she felt him tense in her embrace. Saying nothing, she held on, refusing to let go. Finally he exhaled audibly, then his arms encircled her, too, and she could feel his shoulders relax ever so slightly.

"You should have called us," she admonished gently.

"Nothing you could do for him," he muttered.

"That's not the point," she answered, pulling her head back so she could see his face better. His eyes darted away from hers.

"Hey," she said, waiting until he looked at her again. "We could have been here for you." She pinned him with her eyes, forcing him to hold her gaze so he could see the sincerity in her words.

Abby's capacity for love never ceased to amaze Gibbs. He'd treated her shabbily, he knew, and still she was here, willing to forgive and forget. 'I don't deserve this,' he thought. 'What if she knew how I'd treated Tony? How I'd ignored him, taken him for granted. Then what would she have to say?' His eyes dropped again, and he didn't respond. Yet, despite everything, he couldn't resist pulling her just a little closer, holding her for a moment more and taking some of the comfort she was offering, even though it made him feel selfish.

Finally, Abby reluctantly released her hold on him. She wanted the low down on Tony, but that was going to have to wait. Tony was with the doctors, and, as difficult as it was, she had to trust that they would keep him safe. Right now Gibbs was her principle concern.

"Bet you could use some coffee," she announced after they'd separated.

"Yeah," he grunted, not trusting himself to say much more.

"You go sit down, and I'll get you some. Can't have you detoxing right now. Ducky, since I'm making a run, would you like some tea?" she offered.

"That would be lovely," the elderly ME answered.

"Coming right up. And a Caf-Pow for me. Caffeine in all its various incarnations," she said cheerfully, as she made to leave.

After she was gone, Ducky and Gibbs moved back over to the row of chairs that lined the far wall. As they eased themselves down, Ducky observed, "Abby is a very special person."

"Yeah, she is," Gibbs murmured.

"She's worried about you," Ducky added, testing the waters a bit.

"No reason to be," was Gibbs' terse response.

"I suspect that isn't true," Ducky pushed a little harder. He got no answer to that. "She's also feeling guilty."

This time Gibbs looked at him in surprise.

"We both are, I must admit," the older man continued.

Gibbs brows knitted together. "Why?" he asked.

"I'm afraid that on the drive over here, we discovered that we'd been negligent," Ducky told him. Gibbs listened as he went on. "We got caught up in our own troubles, and didn't pay enough attention to those around us." He stopped there, waiting to see what his friend would say to that.

Gibbs was quiet for a moment longer, and then he muttered, "Lot of that going around."

"Yes, well, as you always say, no point in apologizing. All one can do is move on from there, and attempt to do better in the future." He fell silent after that, giving Gibbs time to absorb his meaning.

Ducky was right, Gibbs thought. He did always say, 'Don't apologize,' and he usually followed it up with 'It's a sign of weakness.' But that wasn't entirely true, he knew. There were lots of reasons not to apologize. Sometimes it was because you weren't really sorry, sometimes it was because you couldn't bring yourself to, and other times it was because it wouldn't truly fix anything. That was the case this time, he feared. Gibbs thought about the last part of Ducky's statement, 'All one can do is move on from there, attempt to do better in the future.' That was what he wanted to do, what he intended to do. For Abby, Ducky, the team, and most importantly, for Tony. He just needed Tony to live, so he had the opportunity to try and make things right.

* * *

"_Go on and say it, DiNozzo," Gibbs was laughing, as he lay on top of Tony, pinning the younger man's up-stretched arms against the mattress._

"_Un uh," Tony said, shaking his head, trying not to laugh, too._

"_Say it!" Gibbs demanded, as he ground his hard cock against Tony's._

_Tony stifled a moan, as waves of desire shot through his body like electrical currents, but he somehow managed to shake his head again._

_Gibbs pushed Tony's hands together so he could hold them with just one hand, then he levered himself up, so he was kneeling over the top of his lover. With his free hand, he reached down, and began to stroke Tony's erection, grinning down evilly at the man below him. "Say it," he encouraged._

_Tony's body was betraying him, and he was thrusting up into Gibbs' strokes, but still he bit his lower lip, refusing to let words slip out._

_Gibbs lowered his head down, and ran his tongue around one of Tony's nipples, lightly tickling it with his tongue, then, when it was wet, he blew warm air across it. Goosebumps immediately appeared on Tony's skin, and an almost pained mewling sound escaped from his lips. Gibbs chuckled, and repeated the process on the other side of Tony's body, as his hand released Tony's cock, and moved on to his sac, gently rolling Tony's balls as a finger occasionally brushed against the underside of his over sensitized dick._

"_All you have to do is say it, and we can finish this," he coaxed._

_A shudder raced through Tony's body, then, in an unexpected move, he broke his hands free, and quickly reached out, grabbed Gibbs' shoulders, and flipped him over, until Tony was the one on top, and Gibbs was lying on the bed. _

_Gibbs was laughing so hard, he wasn't prepared for when Tony bent down, capturing his hot and swollen cock in his mouth. Tony laughed too, when he heard Gibbs gasp, knowing the vibration would further distract the older man, pleased that he'd managed to turn the table. He continued to work on the thick, ripe shaft, swirling his tongue around the ridge of hood, moving his head up and down slowly, purposely making loud, lascivious slurping sounds. When he could feel Gibbs grabbing the sheets on either side of him, working hard to keep from coming, Tony released his dick, and lifted his head a bit, and said, "You say it, and I'll make it worth your while."_

"_Not gonna happen," Gibbs said through clenched teeth, but the sweat on his body, and the heat in his eyes belied the statement._

"_Have it your way," Tony said in an outrageously fake tone of disappointment, and he lowered his head once more, this time taking Gibbs' balls into his mouth, and gently rolling them around with his tongue. As he did that, he wrapped his fingers around Gibbs' cock, and began to pump._

"_Christ," Gibbs hissed quietly._

"_Nope, just Tony," Tony said, as he raised his head again, and ran his tongue up and down the length of Gibbs' now leaking penis. "Go on, say it. You know you want to."_

_Gibbs arms shot up and his hands grasped Tony under the armpits, pulling him up to him, until they were face to face. They stared at each other, both flushed and panting, then Gibbs pulled Tony's head down, and he kissed him hard, his mouth opening and his tongue pushing into Tony's mouth. Tony let his body sink down as he returned the kiss. As Tony melted into Gibbs' kisses, Gibbs suddenly slid his body out from under Tony, and before Tony could react, he was straddling him, one arm between his shoulder blades, keeping him trapped face down on the bed. _

_Tony heard, rather than saw, the sound of the table drawer being opened, and before he knew it, one slick finger was slowly pushing its way inside his body. He had to bite down on the pillow to keep from howling with need when Gibbs shifted his position, nudging Tony's legs apart and kneeling between them, as another finger joined the first, as they slowing slid in and out of Tony's body, stretching him gently. When Gibbs started to brush his fingers against his prostate, Tony cried out. Then, as quickly as they had appeared, the fingers were gone, and Gibbs was pushing into him, slowly and steadily._

_Gibbs let go of Tony's back, and slid his hand under Tony's chest, drawing his body up, until Tony was kneeling too, his back pressed tightly against Gibbs' chest. As he started to thrust, his other hand reached down and encircled Tony's cock, mirroring the motion of his hips with the hand. Tony let his head fall back onto Gibbs' shoulder, and Gibbs began to bite down lightly on it, as he continued his assault. When his other hand began to rub and pull gently on Tony's nipples, the younger man knew he couldn't last much longer. _

_Tony's muscles began to contract, clenching tightly against Gibbs. Gibbs began to quiver too, and before either man knew it, they were both coming, hard and fast, as the combined orgasms ripped gasps and groans from them both. When they were done, Gibbs lowered Tony's body back down on to the bed, and he covered it with his own, not yet pulling out. They were panting, trying to catch their breath, as they lay there, riding out the very last waves of their passion._

_Finally Tony was able to lift his head. "I call that a tie," he said._

"_Humph," Gibbs grunted, but they were both laughing again when he kissed Tony._

They had been at a crime scene earlier that day, Tony remembered, and the crotch of Gibbs' pants had gotten ripped in a tussle with the perp. Tony had laughed until he cried as Gibbs had struggled to hold them closed, but at the same time he was doing that, he'd gotten hard. Gibbs hadn't missed it. Gibbs had never missed anything Tony did back then. On the way home that night, Gibbs had accused him of having no control. Tony had objected, claiming that was a lie, that he had just as much control as Gibbs. Gibbs had laughed, then reached over and fisted Tony through his pants. Tony had gritted his teeth, refusing to thrust up into Gibbs' hand. The end result had been them getting into an "I can hold out longer than you" contest. The game had continued when they got home, and all the way up to the bedroom.

That was one of the things he missed most. Making love with Gibbs had always been intense, as it was when Tony felt most connected to him on every level, but it had also been fun. Contrary to popular belief, Gibbs really did have a sense of humor, even if he kept it hidden a great deal of the time. Or at least that used to be true, Tony thought sadly. Lately they had only allowed the connection to be physical, and there was absolutely no humor anymore, not in the bedroom, or anywhere else.

Tony felt overwhelmed with grief.

'Am I dead already, and this is hell?' he wondered. Was he going to spend the rest of eternity reliving the happy moments in his life, and then be forced to see how they had all gone sour? He tried opening his eyes. That didn't work. He tried listening again. He couldn't hear anything. And then he started to panic. Maybe he had already died. Maybe this wasn't that moment right before death, when your life supposedly flashed before your eyes. Maybe _this_ was his forever.

'Float, just float,' he tried willing his mind to cooperate. It had worked before. All the ugly thoughts, the pain, had disappeared. 'Nothing matters now. It's all over. You can't hurt anyone else anymore, and no one can hurt you. Let it all go,' he told himself, over and over again.

Gradually everything began to blur, and the torturous memories began to recede. His last conscious thought was the image of Gibbs smiling at him, his silver hair reflecting the sun, and his blue eyes dancing with life.

* * *

Draped in the blanket Abby had insisted on tucking around him earlier, Gibbs sat in his chair and checked his watch, for the third time in the last twenty minutes. Tony had now been in surgery for over three hours, and he still had no idea how he was doing. The coffee Abby had brought him was sitting on the table next to him half drunk, cold, and forgotten.

"I don't understand what's taking so long!" he seethed.

"Patience, Jethro. You don't want them to rush things. They need to take their time, make sure they get everything repaired. It would not be good for them to miss something, and have to go back in," Ducky soothed.

Gibbs made a kind of muted growling sound in response, but said no more. He knew the ME was right, but that didn't' make the waiting any easier. The rational part of his brain told him that right now, no news was most likely good news. No one had come in to inform him that Tony hadn't made it, and surely, if he was going to die, it would have already happened. But the irrational part was scared, imagining all kinds of scenarios, every one ending in Tony's death. Without even being aware of what he was doing, he balled his hand into a fist and pounded it against his leg in frustration.

Abby reached over and grasped his hand. She'd been working hard to stay as quiet as possible, knowing Gibbs wasn't really capable of any lengthy discussions. She was, however, taking every excuse she could find to touch him, just to remind him he wasn't alone, and that he wasn't going to be allowed to be alone, not anymore. She didn't care what he said, how much he snapped, she wasn't buying in to it again. And when Tony got out of surgery, she was going to do the same thing for him. She and Ducky had talked about this. He'd reminded her that Gibbs and Tony were proud, and wouldn't willingly seek out help or support, and she'd assured the older man that it didn't matter. That she was going to be there for them, whether they wanted it or not. And this was the start of her new mission. She was just about to say something to Gibbs, when man in a set of surgical scrubs came into the room.

"Agent Gibbs?" the man asked, looking over at the three of them.

"That's me," Gibbs said, shrugging the blanket off, and starting to his feet.

"Don't get up," the man said, waving him back in his seat, as he approached. "I'm Dr. Bennett, one of the surgeons that worked on Agent DiNozzo."

"How is he? Is he in recovery?" Gibbs asked.

Dr. Bennett snagged one of the chairs from the row across from where Gibbs, Ducky and Abby were, pulled it over towards them, and sat as he spoke. "The surgery went fairly well. We were pleased with the quality of repairs we managed to make, and the knife didn't nick the heart or lungs, which we were afraid of when we first started. He seemed to tolerate the surgery well; and there were no more cardiac incidents, again, something we had expected, given what happened earlier."

Abby was now beaming, Ducky looked pleased, and Gibbs was finally beginning to feel a bit more normal. "So he's in recovery then? Will you be moving him up to intensive care soon?" Gibbs asked in relief.

"Actually, he's been in recovery for a while now. That's what I want to talk to you about," Dr. Bennett said solemnly.

The floor seemed to drop out from underneath Gibbs when the doctor said that. "Go on," he managed to say.

"When we first got him in there, we weren't getting the kinds of responses we like to see. His vitals were too depressed. At first we thought he was just having trouble handling the anesthesia, but as time went on, his condition didn't improve. We ran a series of tests, and I'm afraid that Agent DiNozzo seems to have slipped into a coma," Dr. Bennett told them.

"But he didn't have a head injury," Gibbs objected, refusing to believe what he'd heard.

"That's a popular misconception," the doctor said. "Comas are most often the result of a brain trauma, but it isn't the exclusive reason. He went in to cardiac arrest twice, was in respiratory distress, and had lost a great deal of blood before we even got him into surgery. Any one of those three things could have caused it, and combined….." his voice trailed off.

"So when will he wake up?" Gibbs demanded.

"I wish I could answer that, but I don't have an answer for you. It's not something one can predict. We installed a pacemaker just in case it's needed, he's intubated so we can continue to insure that he gets enough oxygen, and we'll continue to monitor him carefully up in ICU."

"But he is going to wake up, right?" Gibbs insisted.

"We're certainly going to hope for the best," was what the doctor told him.

There was that word again, hope. But Gibbs wasn't sure he had any more hope left in him.


	5. Chapter 5

"**No Bravery"**

**Chapter Five**

ICU waiting rooms were always quiet, but this was the most silent one he'd ever been in, Ducky thought, as he sat in a chair, one arm tightly wrapped around Abby, who was curled into him. He was watching Gibbs stand rigid near the door, waiting for a nurse to come and tell him that he could go in to see Tony. He hadn't said anything more than yes or no since the doctor had told them that Tony had slipped into a coma. And, whereas Ducky would not have been surprised had Gibbs reverted back into the shocked, and slightly broken man he and Abby had discovered when they'd first arrived at the hospital, instead his countenance had become hard, impossible to read. His posture was Marine ramrod straight. But he was just as broken though, of that Ducky was sure. He wanted to tell Gibbs to sit down, that it would take awhile before they had Tony situated and ready for visitors, but there was no point. Gibbs knew that as well as he. So instead, Ducky had to content himself with sitting there, watching for the cracks, ready this time to step in, if the need arose.

Abby was holding on to Ducky, trying to draw comfort from having him near, as she gazed over at Gibbs. She'd been able to deal with the thought of Tony wounded and in surgery. It hadn't been easy, but it also hadn't been the first time. When she'd gotten here, to find a Gibbs that was being held together by nothing more than sheer willpower, she'd even adjusted to that. But then they'd been told that Tony was in a coma, and Gibbs had turned into a barely animated marble statue, all of her earlier bravery and resolve had begun to crumble. Tony lay in a bed somewhere in the next room, being kept alive by machines. And Gibbs just stood there, so cold and still. She knew it was a lie, that the worry had to be eating away at his insides, but she had no idea how to make it better.

"We need to do something," she whispered to the elderly ME, her head resting on his shoulder.

"We are," he quietly told her, his soft voice more for her benefit than Jethro's. Ducky wasn't worried about his friend hearing them talk; he was too lost in his own thoughts.

"But he's suffering," she objected.

"Nothing we can do will fix that," he squeezed her shoulder.

"But…." Abby began to argue again.

Ducky reached up and pressed an index finger to her lips. "Just being here is enough for now. We'll know if we need to be doing something else when the time comes."

Gibbs couldn't sit anymore. At least when he was standing he had to focus on something besides the overwhelming heaviness in his stomach and chest, since it took no small amount of effort just to stay balanced on his two feet. Part of him was wishing that time would speed up, so he could get into the unit to see Tony, and another part wanted time to freeze, so nothing more could go wrong. When Kelly had been little, she had a toy called a Push-Me Pull-You, based on a creature from the Dr. Doolittle movie. It was a llama like creature, with a neck and head at either end, and the two heads always wanted to go in different directions. That was him, he thought bitterly. One half of him would just be starting to feel better, when something new would happen, and the head on the left side would take over again, as the world started to crash back in around him. And the doctors, spouting words like wait and see and hope. How in the hell was he supposed to hope, when that was all they could offer by way of reassurances?

"Agent Gibbs?" A nurse stood in the doorway, looking at him. "We've got Agent DiNozzo situated in his room, if you'd like to go in and see him for a few minutes?"

Gibbs managed to nod mutely.

"Then come with me," she said, standing aside so he could pass through the door first. When they were in the unit, she took the lead. "You won't be able to stay long, but I can give you about fifteen minutes. Go ahead and talk to him. We still don't really understand comas, but there are lots of studies that suggest someone in one can hear what's happening around them. If that's the case, I'm sure he will feel better, knowing someone is there with him." She stopped, because they'd come to a room that had the curtains drawn on the wall of windows that looked out towards the nurse's station. "This is it. I'm sure I don't need to tell you not to touch any of the equipment. I'll come back and get you when it's time to let him rest." And with that, she moved away.

Gibbs went into the room, and was greeted by a sight he'd hoped never to see again. In a bed, dwarfed by medical machinery, lay Tony. At the sight of him, Gibbs' brain shut down, and his heart took over. When he got to the side of the bed, he reached down for Tony's limp hand that rested on the outside of the blankets. Being careful not to dislodge any of the IV lines that were attached, he slid his own hand underneath, and intertwined his fingers between Tony's.

"Hey there," he said in a soft voice, that was hoarse from disuse. "It's me," and then words failed him.

Tony just lay there, still as death. His eyes were closed, and an oxygen mask covered the lower half of his face. Tubing ran out of it, snaking its way over to the ventilator, and Tony appeared to be bare, except for the extensive bandaging that ran all along his left shoulder down onto his chest. Electrodes were attached to his skin below the dressings, and a machine on the other side of the bed sent out an audible and visible record of his heart beats. There were IV poles everywhere. Gibbs had no idea what they were pumping into his lover's body, and he didn't much care. They could put anything into him, if it meant that Tony had a chance to get stronger, to heal, and eventually, to wake up.

"I need you!" The words had just slipped out of his mouth with no planning, but that didn't make them any less true. He did need Tony, he just hadn't realized how much until now. Standing there, even though he was looking down at Tony's inert body, he felt strangely better, more complete. It was like having lost a limb, and then having it reattached. Even though the arm or leg might not work, there was a feeling of completion, and there was hope. The hope that it would work again, some day.

Hope. That word kept coming up. Maybe Gibbs was going to have to give himself over to it, and let go of everything else. The stoicism, the false bravado, the walls he'd built to hide his hurt, they would all to have to go. He was going to have to find a new kind of bravery, a bravery that allowed him to hope, he realized. He didn't have a clue how he was going to do it, but he knew he had to. He had to hope, for himself, for Tony, and he needed to find a way to let Tony know.

"I love you," he choked out in a whisper, as he bent down so his face was closer to Tony's. His only answer was the hissing from oxygen and the beeping from the monitors.

Gibbs reached up with his free hand, and corded his fingers softly through Tony's hair. He knew that Tony loved the feel of that. Sometimes at night Gibbs would lie with Tony cradled in his arms, and he'd run his fingers along Tony's scalp, from the beginning of the hairline on his neck all the way up to the top of his head. He'd keep it up until Tony went limp in his arms, sound asleep. Sometimes he wouldn't stop even then, but would continue until he, too, drifted off. But just like everything else good in their relationship, they hadn't done that in a long time. Tony didn't cuddle into him at night, and Gibbs didn't reach across the bed and pull him close.

"Damn it!" Gibbs cursed quietly. He let go of Tony, straightened back up, and ran his hands through his own hair in frustration. He let his head fall back as he stared up at the ceiling. 'Talk to him, the nurse had said. What in the hell am I supposed to say? That I screwed up, took Tony for granted?' Gibbs thought. 'Would he hear me, does he even care?' He looked back down at Tony's lifeless body. It didn't look like him. Tony's face was full of animation, his eyes sparkled, and he always looked like he were about to burst into laughter. Or at least, that was the way Gibbs wanted to remember him, as he tried hard not to think about the Tony that watched him out of the corner of his eyes lately, the man with the bruised expression and the wary eyes.

"Tony, you have to wake up," he said, as he watched the sleeping man for any sign of awareness. Nothing. He put his hand on Tony's neck, just to feel the warmth of his skin and the faint pulsing of his carotid artery. It was stupid, Gibbs knew. Every conceivable vital was being monitored. But he wanted more. He had to touch him, needed the tactile proof that he was still alive. As his hand caressed the soft skin, it felt just like he remembered. He half expected Tony to lower his head, and nip gently at his hand, the way he often did when Gibbs rested his hand there. He brought his hand higher, avoiding the oxygen mask, and ran his fingers along Tony's checks and up over his closed eyes.

"Come on. Open your eyes," he tried again. Tony's eyes didn't magically open. "God, I don't know what to say to you," he growled quietly.

"Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs looked sharply to his left. The nurse had come silently into the room, and was watching him with sympathy.

"It's time to go. We need to run a few more tests, and he needs to rest. You can come back and see him in an hour, although it looks like you could profit from some sleep yourself."

"Just come get me," was his answer, dismissing her suggestion out of hand.

When he got back to the waiting room, he paused in the door. There sat Abby and Ducky, looking expectantly up at him. He couldn't talk to them right now. Not after he'd just failed so miserably with Tony.

"Going for coffee," he grunted, and turned on his heels and fled. He had to be by himself for just a little while, to be surrounded by people that didn't know him, and didn't need anything from him. People he couldn't disappoint.

Abby looked over at Ducky. "Should we go after him?" she asked in concern.

Ducky shook his head. "Let him be. Tony's here, he won't go far. I'm sure he'll be back soon. He's not going to miss a visiting hour."

Gibbs took himself completely out of the hospital, into the night. He wanted fresh air. He didn't have a destination in mind. He just needed to get out, away from the oppressiveness of the waiting room, where all he could think about was what might go wrong next and how he'd screwed up. Pulling out his cell phone he punched in McGee's number. He'd get an update on the investigation. Maybe that would give him a sense of normalcy, help him to regain his balance.

"What have you got?" he demanded, the minute McGee answered.

The younger man winced. He did not want to have to answer that question. Not today, and not to Gibbs. "Not a lot," he was forced to admit. "We collected a bunch of stuff near where Tony was laying, but I don't think it's going to give us anything. There was no sign of the knife. Boss, how's Tony doing?" he asked, before he went on. He had to know. Both he and Ziva had tried calling Abby and Ducky, but had had no luck. They knew you had to have your cell phones off when you were near the ICU, so they had assumed that was where Tony was, and as bad as that would be, he needed the confirmation.

"Coma," was Gibbs' terse answer.

McGee swallowed.

"What about the bank tapes?" Gibbs asked, refusing to dwell on Tony.

"I ran those. We got a shot of Dietrich going by, and then one of Tony a few seconds later. He was clearly chasing him. I'm working on getting security tapes from some of the other buildings in the area. I'm going to see if I can backtrack that way. Figure out how Tony found him, and maybe get a better idea of what Dietrich was doing there," McGee told Gibbs.

"Get some from the buildings past the alley, too. See if you can find where Dietrich went after he left the alley," Gibbs ordered.

"On it already," McGee answered.

Gibbs nodded. Then, on the spur of the moment, he said, "You're doing good, Tim. Keep at it. I'll call later."

He disconnected, leaving a stunned McGee staring at the phone.

"Was that Gibbs?" Ziva asked, from where she sat at her desk.

"Yeah," McGee answered.

"And?" Ziva demanded.

"And what?" McGee asked, still thinking about his call with Gibbs.

"How is Tony, McGee?" Her voice was sharp, but he knew it was just because she was worried.

"He's in a coma," he told her.

Ziva just looked at him for a moment as she absorbed what he'd said, and then she seemed to unfreeze. "That is not good," she said, shaking her head. "What do the doctors say?"

"I don't know, Ziva. Gibbs made it clear he didn't want to talk about it." He remembered how Gibbs had immediately changed the subject after he'd told him about the coma. "I didn't think it was a good idea to push him."

"How did he sound?" she wanted to know.

"Tense, so not much different than usual, really. It was weird though. Right before he hung up, he told me I'd done a good job. He hasn't said anything like that in a long time. Lately, all he does is snap and criticize," McGee observed. Ziva arched an eyebrow, but didn't contradict him. It was true. Everyone had spent the last several weeks walking on eggshells around Gibbs.

"Is he coming back here tonight?" she asked.

"I don't think so. He said he'd call later."

"Hmm," Ziva said, looking thoughtful.

"What's that supposed to mean?" McGee jumped on her.

"Nothing," she answered.

"Nothing is when you don't say anything, Ziva. You hmmed," he said as he walked over to her desk. "What were you thinking?"

"It is nothing, I am sure," she tried to brush off the question.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that? Spill," he insisted, as he sat on the edge of the desk.

"You sound like Tony," she deflected.

"Ziva, tell me," McGee pressed.

"It was merely that Gibbs always seems the most concerned when it is Tony who has been hurt," she shrugged.

"That's probably because Tony always manages to get himself hurt the worst," McGee answered her.

"I am sure you are right," she answered, although her tone implied that she wasn't quite buying that explanation. "Are you planning to go to the hospital tonight?" she inquired, changing the subject.

"I don't know. Abby and Ducky are there. Since they haven't called yet, and neither one has come back, I'm assuming that means it's really bad there."

"Then we should go, yes?" she asked.

"Maybe," McGee sighed. "We won't be able to go in to see Tony, and I don't know if Gibbs will want us there. He hasn't seemed very pleased to see any of us lately, at any time. Maybe we should just stay here, and spend the night trying to find Dietrich."

"So you have noticed that Gibbs has been different recently?" Ziva inquired.

"How could you miss it? I'm afraid to say anything anymore," he admitted. "He's even more unpredictable than usual. You never know what's going to piss him off, and he doesn't ever look like he wants to be here."

"Yes, it has been difficult. Tony hasn't been the same, either. He makes jokes, but it is as though he has to work at it. And he does not seem as playful," she pointed out.

"I used to love this job, but lately I've been wondering if I should transfer back to cyber crimes. The cases just keep piling up, and even when we solve one, no one seems really happy," McGee confessed quietly.

"Do not do that, Tim," Ziva said, patting his hand. "I would miss you, and so would Gibbs and Tony. There are always going to be some bad times. It is the nature of this job. Perhaps we need to work harder at being a team," she suggested.

"Yeah," McGee didn't sound convinced.

"Let me help you with the security tapes. Then, when we have something to tell Gibbs, we can go to the hospital. We could bring food and coffee," Ziva gave McGee a little half smile. "And perhaps a  
Caf-Pow for Abby? It is what team members should do."

McGee nodded in agreement. Ziva was right. Things had been strained lately, but he hadn't really done much to try and improve things. Now Tony was seriously hurt and in a coma. If they were ever going to come together as a team again, it had to be now.

"Deal," he said, returning Ziva's smile.

While Ziva and McGee had been talking, Gibbs had been wandering aimlessly around the hospital grounds. The nurse's words kept rolling around in his head. 'Talk to him.' He knew she was right. If there was any chance Tony could hear him, he had to try. He hadn't realized until he'd been in Tony's room, just how out of practice he'd become at talking. It had never been his strong suit, but it used to be effortless with Tony. But Gibbs had stood by his bed, staring down at him, and all his words had failed him. That couldn't happen again. He couldn't afford to waste another opportunity of getting through to Tony. He was going to talk, and talk, and talk, until Tony opened his eyes and talked back. He just had to figure out what he was going to say.

Gibbs glanced at his watch. He'd been gone for close to forty minutes. He had just enough time before the next visiting hour to grab a cup of coffee from the snack bar, and head back up to the waiting room, so he headed back inside. As he stood in the line to place his order, he thought about Ducky and Abby, sitting up in that room. When it was his turn at the counter, he ordered a tea and a soda, as well as the coffee. As gestures of thanks went, it wasn't much, but it was all he could do at the moment. He had to get his act together. They were just as worried about Tony as he was, he didn't need to give them more cause for concern. Grabbing his offerings, he turned and headed for the elevators.


	6. Chapter 6

"**No Bravery"**

**Chapter Six**

Gibbs had barely enough time to distribute his offerings, before it was time to go in and see Tony again. The same nurse ushered him to the room, and then left, telling him she'd be back in about ten minutes. 'Ten minutes,' Gibbs thought, 'that is so little time.' He'd had months and years before, and hadn't fully appreciated what a gift it was. Now he was reduced to counting down the seconds of every hour, until he could have a paltry ten minutes to see Tony. When he stepped into the room, he went over to the bed and gazed down.

"Hey there, I'm back," he told Tony's comatose body. There was no reaction.

'Talk to him,' the nurse's voice echoed in his head again.

'I'm trying,' he silently told her. He needed to say something. He searched around in his head, looking for a topic of conversation. Anything would do, he just needed to speak, let Tony hear his voice.

Latching onto the first thing that occurred to him, he said, "Was just getting coffee, and I remembered that little coffee house in Georgetown that you liked so much. Remember?" He paused, as if waiting for Tony to respond, and when nothing came, he pushed on.

"I thought about the time we were there, and they did that poetry reading thingy. What was it called? Oh yeah, a slam. Where in the hell did they get that name, anyway?" he asked. When Tony didn't say anything, he continued. "Suddenly I had an image of that guy in the top hat, with the beard. The one who's poem was supposed to be his girlfriend's vagina talking. I thought someone was going to punch you when you spit out your coffee all over the table and started laughing when he started singing the lines in the vagina's 'voice.' You were almost crying, you were laughing so hard as we got out of there. Do you remember that, Tony?"

Tony didn't answer.

Gibbs had no idea why that story came to mind, but he was grateful for the memory. They'd had fun with it for weeks afterwards. Tony would adopt the 'vagina voice' without warning, when they were at dinner or making love, and they'd both laugh about it all over again. As he thought about it, Gibbs realized he was smiling. Maybe that was the answer. Maybe he should just remind Tony about some of the good times they'd had. 'It was worth a try,' he told himself. He took Tony's hand in his own.

"When you get out of here, we should go away for a weekend. It's been too long since we did. Something like the time when we rented the boat at Martha's Vineyard, and spent two days sailing around the Cape. That was nice, wasn't it? Swam when we wanted, lay in the sun, no schedule to worry about. We could do that again. What do you think?" he asked.

Gibbs bent down and pressed a kiss on Tony's forehead. "You gotta wake up to answer me, Hotshot," he murmured. That had been a nickname he'd coined for Tony years ago, before they were even together. He'd come up with it after a day on the practice range, when he'd made Tony put his new ball cap on the target, and Tony had ended up shooting a hole through the hat. He hadn't used the name in a long time; too long. In fact, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd purposely tried to make Tony smile.

"Doesn't that sound good? Lying out on the deck of the boat, under the stars, with just the moon for light? All you have to do is say the word."

But Tony didn't say anything.

Gibbs inhaled. The scent from Tony's ridiculously expensive shampoo still lingered in his hair, and he wanted to bury his face in it. Instead, he settled for running his fingers through it again, wishing the feel of it would bring Tony out of his stupor. Tony's hair was so thick and soft that his fingers disappeared as they were enveloped by the layers, and Gibbs lost himself in the sensation.

"Your hair's getting long," he observed. In the past year or so, Tony had taken to having his hair cut shorter. He claimed it was easier to take care of, although Gibbs didn't see how that was possible, since he still spent just as long styling it each morning. Gibbs had always secretly liked it when it was a bit longer, even though he would never have said anything about it to Tony.

"I need you to be okay," he unintentionally pleaded. Seeing Tony like this, so broken and still, was killing him slowly. Not trusting himself to say more at that moment, he straightened back up, and reached down to pull the sheets up farther on Tony's chest, grasping Tony's wrist and lifting to facilitate his ministrations. Tony's arm hung boneless and heavy in his hand. There was no sign of life whatsoever.

He had just gotten done rearranging the pillows when the nurse came back in to get him.

"How's he doing?" she asked.

"Same," he muttered.

"Don't lose faith. It's only been a short while. I would have been very surprised if something had changed yet. You know, I really do think it would be safe for you to sleep for a few hours. It's late, and even if Agent DiNozzo weren't in a coma, he'd likely be asleep right now, anyway," she smiled at him, as they left the room.

Gibbs nodded mutely, and left her to interpret what that meant.

* * *

The swirling images began to slow down, and Tony was able to separate one from another again.

_He and Gibbs were in the basement, and the older man was working on his boat, while Tony sat on the steps, watching him. _

"_Why do you only use hand tools, Boss?" Tony inquired. He'd asked the question once before, not long after they'd started seeing each other outside of work, and Gibbs had told him, "Just because it plugs into the wall, doesn't mean it's better, DiNozzo," and he hadn't said anything more. It had been a clear signal that the subject was officially closed. That had triggered all of Tony's alert buttons. He was getting good at reading Gibbs. He knew there was a bigger story behind that answer, and he'd vowed to himself to get to the bottom of it one day._

"_You really want to know?" Gibbs shot a quick look over at him._

"_Wouldn't have asked again, if I didn't," Tony told him, knowing Gibbs would remember that he'd posed the question before. The man never forgot anything._

_Gibbs kept sanding for awhile, without saying anything, and Tony began to think that he wasn't going to tell him, and then, he quietly spoke. "I began building the first one right after I joined NCIS. I didn't really intend to build a boat at first. I'd always done woodwork to relax, ever since I was a kid, but it had always been little projects – bookcases, small tables, that sort of thing. All I had were hand tools, since that's what my father had taught me to use, and I didn't really need anything else. When I got a new load of wood, the idea for the boat just sort of happened." He fell silent again._

_Tony didn't say a word. He'd learned a long time ago that if you wanted Gibbs to tell you something, it was better not to push. So instead, he just stretched out his legs and made himself more comfortable. He was willing to wait, which was a good thing with Gibbs, because you sometimes had to wait a very long time before he got around to telling you anything of importance._

_After awhile, Gibbs started to speak again. "Shannon used to have this fantasy about us sailing around the world. She'd read travel articles about all the places she wanted to visit, and she even had a map from some old atlas that she used to mark the destinations on. After Kelly was born, she expanded the dream to include her, too. Just the three of us; that was what she wanted. We were talking about actually doing it to celebrate Kelly's high school graduation."_

_Tony tried not to hold his breath. This was extremely rare. Gibbs almost never talked about his family, although Tony had gotten to the point that he sometimes knew when his lover was thinking about them. There was just something about the expression he'd get on his face that alerted Tony._

_Gibbs put down the plainer he had been using, and picked up a sanding block. As he rubbed it along the wood, he began to talk. "Once I realized what I was building, I wasn't about to switch to power tools, didn't want to hurry it. I knew I'd never sail the boat. Couldn't have begun to, but when I was down here, working on it, I could almost pretend they were upstairs, and I was creating it for them. As long as the boat wasn't finished, they weren't completely gone." Gibbs became quiet and just kept sanding._

_Tony didn't say anything. There was nothing he could have said that would have expressed what he was feeling. Instead, he stood up and went over to stand behind Gibbs. He wrapped his arms around the other man, and kissed him on the back of the neck. Then he settled his head on Gibbs' shoulder, and just held him close. Eventually Gibbs turned his head towards Tony's, and kissed him on the cheek. He put the sanding block down, turned into Tony's embrace, encircling him in his arms, as his mouth sought out Tony's lips. _

Tony remembered that as clearly as if it had happened the day before. They hadn't talked about it further, ever, but after that night Gibbs would occasionally mention Shannon and Kelly. They were no longer the big pink elephant in the room that Tony had to work hard to ignore; and maybe it had just been his imagination, but he'd always thought they'd grown closer that day, as if an invisible hurdle had been surmounted.

Tony let himself float again, not bothering to block out his thoughts. That had been a joyful memory, and he was feeling a little better. 'Maybe this won't be so bad after all' he told himself. For a moment, while he was thinking about that evening, he'd almost been able to sense Gibbs there with him, and he hadn't felt so alone. But that wasn't possible, and as good as that had made him momentarily feel, Tony didn't want it to be true. Because if Gibbs was really there, it would mean he had died, too, and that was unacceptable. Now that he was dead, Tony realized, Gibbs would have another chance at happiness, with someone else, someone better. Tony had always thought they had found it together, but lately he'd begun to question that. Somehow or the other, he'd screwed up. He hadn't been enough, or maybe he'd been too much – too needy, too insecure. He wasn't really sure where he'd gone wrong, he just knew he had. But now Gibbs was free, and Tony had a private horde of memories he could revisit, memories of when it had been good between the two of them.

* * *

Ducky was sitting alone in the waiting room when Gibbs got back. "Where's Abs?" he asked the ME.

"She's out calling Timothy and Ziva to find out about what evidence was found at the scene, and who's running it. She's antsy to make sure nothing gets missed," Ducky shook his head as he told Gibbs.

"If it's bugging her, she should go back to the Yard," Gibbs told his friend.

"I highly doubt if she would be willing to do that," Ducky snorted. "As concerned as she may be about how the evidence is processed, she is far more worried about you."

"Not the one who got stabbed," Gibbs grunted.

"Not all injuries are visible, Jethro," was Ducky's answer.

Gibbs ignored that remark and sat across from his old friend. Ducky was right, so there wasn't much point in denying it. Besides, that would only invite him to argue the point further, which was something Gibbs wanted to avoid if possible.

"How was Tony?" the older man asked.

"The same. Asleep," Gibbs told him.

"Yes, well, he went through significant trauma and shock today. This is one way the body and mind deal with it. Give him time," Ducky said soothingly.

"Intend to."

"Jethro, why don't you try to get a little sleep. Abby and I are here, in case the situation changes. I highly doubt Tony is going to wake up tonight. It might be better if you slept for awhile, so you were fresher tomorrow," he suggested.

"Can't. The nurse said it would do Tony good to have someone talk to him, so he knew he wasn't alone," Gibbs answered quietly.

"I'm listed as his private physician. There's no reason I couldn't go in there and sit with him during the next visiting session. As you may have noticed, I'm perfectly capable of talking for ten minutes," he said lightly. Gibbs smirked when he said that, and raised an eyebrow, which encouraged Ducky. It looked like the old Gibbs again, the one Ducky hadn't seen in quite some time.

Deciding to take advantage of the situation, he pressed a bit harder. "Go stretch out in one of the reclining chairs over there. You'll be right here in case you're needed."

Gibbs considered what was being offered. He was exhausted. He hadn't even realized just how tired he was until now, when he was actually giving some thought to sleep. He felt like he'd been run over by a semi. Every muscle in his body ached, and the low grade headache he'd seemed to have for the last several weeks, had bloomed into an almost debilitating one. He wasn't going to be of much use to Tony if he couldn't think straight, and he suspected that Ducky was right, Tony wasn't likely to snap out of the coma that night.

"Just for an hour," he conceded. "You'll go see Tony next time?"

"It will be my pleasure," Ducky assured him. Feeling like he'd just won a major victory, he watched with satisfaction as Gibbs got up and went over to one of the recliners in the corner of the room. Ducky took care to school his expression, not wanting to appear as if he were gloating, and somehow jinx the situation. "This is very wise of you," he encouraged.

"I want to know if there's any change at all," Gibbs said forcefully.

"Of course," Ducky assured him, as Gibbs pulled on the lever that raised the foot rest on the chair. Rising from his chair, Ducky went over to the wall and lowered the lights, so that the only illumination in the room was coming from a couple of small table lamps.

By the time Abby returned to the room, Gibbs was fast asleep. "How did you manage that?" she whispered in amazement, when she saw Gibbs, who was now covered in the blanket, sleeping at the far end of the darkened room.

"Just a few well placed words," Ducky told her, "which may have been aided by the fact that he could barely sit up anymore."

"Are we supposed to wake him up when it's time for him to go see Tony again?" she asked, as she settled back down into the chair next to him.

"No, he's agreed to let me take the next visiting hour," he told her.

"I bow to your superior skills, Sensei. You are a true miracle worker," Abby kissed him on the cheek.

Ducky draped an arm around her shoulder, and tucked her in to him. "I like to think the years have brought me a degree wisdom. So, tell me, what did Timothy have to say?"

"I talked to Ziva, actually," Abby told him. "Timmy was on his phone when I tried to call. She told me that everything they picked up at the scene seemed to be unrelated to what happened to Tony. The only thing they really got was blood, and all that was Tony's. There were hundreds of fingerprints, but none of them belonged to Dietrich, and all of the stuff around where they found Tony, seems to have been just garbage."

"So they have nothing?" Ducky asked in dismay.

"No, actually they have a great clue. McGee was able to back track Dietrich's movements, using security cameras from a whole series of buildings. Get this, before this all happened, he was hanging around outside the Yard! When Tony went out, he must have seen him. McGee has snippets from over twenty different security cams of Tony chasing after him all the way to the alley," she told him excitedly.

"My word! I wonder what he was doing there?" Ducky mused.

"They don't have any idea, but that's what they're investigating now," she said. "At least there'll be something new to tell the bossman, when he wakes up."

"That is wonderful. I have a feeling he'll need some good news," Ducky murmured.

"Did you find out anything about what has been going on with him, lately?" Abby asked.

"No, I didn't think the time was right to broach that subject. When he came out of Tony's room, he seemed a bit more like his old self. I didn't want to take the risk of putting him back on the defensive, and having him shut back down. For now, I'll settle for him getting a little rest. Sadly, I think we may have a lot more time to explore the other problem," he sighed.

"How long are you going to let him sleep?" Abby asked.

"He only agreed to let me take the next visiting hour. I don't think it would be wise to take advantage of his being asleep by letting that stretch longer. Not if we want him to trust us in the future. Even an hour and a half of sleep will do him good. Why don't you try to get in a little nap, too, my dear?" he suggested.

"What about you?" Abby objected.

Ducky chuckled. "We old people don't require as much sleep. Perhaps it's because we move so much slower and don't burn up the same amount of energy when we're awake."

"You will never be old to me," Abby said, as she hugged him and kissed him on the cheek again.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I must admit, there were times tonight that I felt as though I were one hundred years old," he confessed.

"I know, Ducky. I know. I felt the same way," Abby said, as she rested her head back onto his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Soon, Ducky was the only one awake. He sat, holding Abby, and listening to Gibbs. He could tell from the sounds his friend was making, that his sleep was uneasy. 'What are you dreaming about, Jethro?' he wondered. Shaking his head, he silently wished the old saying was true, that time and sleep really did heal all wounds.


	7. Chapter 7

"**No Bravery"**

**Chapter Seven**

"I had no idea you were his personal physician," the nurse told Ducky as she ushered him back to see Tony. She was obviously flustered by the news. "I'm so sorry. You should have said something, we would have let you come back to see him immediately."

"There's no need to apologize, my dear," Ducky told her with a smile. "I'm actually serving in another capacity at the moment. You see, I work at NCIS also, so tonight I'm here as a friend."

"Really? What on earth does a doctor do at an investigative service?" she inquired.

"I'm the ME," he said.

She did a double take at the news. "An ME? Agent DiNozzo's physician is a medical examiner?"

"I realize that may seem a bit odd, premature even, but if you knew Tony, you'd understand. He has never been fond of doctors, but it's hard for him to avoid checkups when he has to see his doctor at work every day." She smiled at that.

"Tony, is that what you all call Agent DiNozzo?"

"Yes, although I must admit, I am more prone to use his Christian name, Anthony."

"Do you think he'd like it if we called him Tony as well?" she asked.

"I think that would be lovely. It would make him feel as if he were surrounded by friends," Ducky assured her.

"Then that's what we'll do. I'll make sure everyone knows. Well, here we are," she gestured towards Tony's room. "I'll let you be, Dr. Mallard." Ducky thanked her, and then walked into the room.

"Hello, Anthony," Ducky said, as he reached down to unhook the chart that was attached to the foot of the bed. "Jethro's taking a short nap, so I'm here to keep you company. He's exhausted, so I thought that whilst you slept, it would be best if he did, too." All the time he was speaking, he was reading through the information on the chart to familiarize himself with Tony's condition.

"He's quite worried about you, but I've assured him that you are young and strong, and will be just fine, given some time. You need to remember that as well, and not make a liar of me. That would be bad form on your part. I must say, being in here reminds me of when you had the plague. We had some lovely chats then, do you remember? I do believe that was the first time we really had a chance to just sit and have a long visit, uninterrupted by others. I often think back fondly on those conversations."

Ducky paused and studied Tony. He was watching for any sign of a reaction from the younger man. Seeing none, he continued to speak again. "Have I told you about Mother's little beasties' latest escapade? I let them out in the back gardens the other day so they could take care of their business, and went to get myself a cup of tea. As I was drinking it, it occurred to me that the dogs were being suspiciously quiet, which is always ominous. It's really quite astounding how much trouble creatures so small can cause. So, I quickly hied myself off to see what they were up to. Would you believe they had dug up every one of the tulip bulbs I spent all Saturday afternoon planting! I wouldn't have thought their legs were long enough to dig that deep! We shall have to see if bulbs will still grow and bloom after they've been aerated by corgi teeth. I was quite vexed. I had sent for them from a bulb company that operates out of Holland, and they had every promise of being truly spectacular. I don't know if I've ever told you, but I love tulips. When I was a young man, no older than you, I once went to Holland on holiday. Whilst I was there……"

Ducky continued to talk without pause for the next ten minutes, telling Tony several wildly varied stories in what others might consider a random fashion, even though to him they followed a perfectly logical order. When the nurse came to get him, he was just finishing up a recollection about the time he went mountain climbing in the Andes and got trapped by an avalanche.

"Doctor?" she said, when he stopped for air. "I'm so sorry, but the visiting hour is over. I couldn't help overhearing the story you were telling Tony. It was fascinating, I must say. If you're going to come in to visit him the next time as well, I may have to beg you to let me stay and listen," she told him with a smile.

"I'd like that very much," he gave her his most charming smile. "I rather highly doubt, however, if Agent Gibbs will allow anyone else to have the next visit."

"You're not going to wake him up, are you?" she asked in alarm. "The man looks like the dead walking!"

"As tempting as it is to allow him to continue sleeping, I can't. I gave my word, and I'm not prepared to break it. Besides, a couple of hours of sleep for him are like a whole night for the rest of us. I believe it must be something they teach you in the Marines," he added with a wink.

The nurse laughed at his joke as they walked back towards the waiting room. "Well, if Agent Gibbs is going to be up, perhaps you should take advantage of that, and try to squeeze in a small nap yourself. I'll see you later," she told him as she headed back towards the nurse's station.

Gibbs and Abby were still sleeping when he got back into the room, but they weren't alone. Sitting in two chairs, across from Abby, were Ziva and McGee.

"You are smiling," Ziva whispered to him when he got close. "Does that mean Tony is doing better?" Ducky heard the anxiety in her voice, even though her face was carefully composed to appear professional and calm. Ziva and Tony were always sparring verbally, and to a casual observer it would appear as if they held each other in disdain. But he knew better. Tony was one of the few people who could make Ziva relax. With him, she allowed her more playful side to slip out occasionally. It was something Ducky felt she needed to do more often, and something he hadn't seen happen in quite a while.

Regretfully, he shook his head. "No, I am afraid he's the same. I was just smiling over something one of Tony's nurses said. Don't fret, though. It's still early days," he told Ziva, when, despite her best efforts to remain stoic, her face fell. "These things take time. The brain sometimes needs a rest when the body has taken a great deal of abuse. If I were to place a bet, I'd put my money on Tony."

Ziva nodded in response, and although she didn't feel good, she was somewhat reassured. She knew Ducky wouldn't give words of encouragement if he thought there was no hope. That would be cruel, and cruel was something he could never be.

"How is the search for our villain going?" Ducky asked, his knees popping in protest over the long day, as he sank down into a chair beside them.

"We've stopped for the night," McGee told him. "Abby probably already told you that we now know he was standing around outside the Yard right before Tony saw him this afternoon. We still don't know why. We're going to re-interview some of the people in his unit, see if they have any idea why he might have been here, but that has to wait till morning. So we thought we'd come over here…."

Ducky could see that Tim was uncomfortable expressing why they felt the need to be there, even though they did. He understood that. McGee would probably have been able to articulate it in an email or his novel, but doing it face to face was harder, and not something he was skilled at. 'That's the problem with the computer generation,' Ducky thought. 'If something can't be said in a series of generic, one letter abbreviations, half of them don't seem to know how to communicate anything.'

"And you were quite right to," he told McGee and Ziva. A team should be together at times like these, to support each other. Gibbs might not recognize his need for others, but it existed. The last couple of months should be proof of that, Ducky thought, still feeling guilty over his own dereliction of what he felt was his duty as a friend and colleague. Gibbs had shut them all out, and the team had suffered as a result. And worse yet, he was beginning to suspect the same thing had happened with Tony, and he had failed to notice.

"Abby will be thrilled to see you when she wakes up, and I'm sure Gibbs will appreciate being updated on how the investigation is going," he told them, smiling reassuringly as he spoke.

"We brought some food and stuff," McGee told him, pointing to the small breakfast table that was tucked away in one corner of the room. On it sat two grocery sized brown paper bags, a few bottles of water, a tub sized glass of Caf-Pow, and some Styrofoam cups that Ducky assumed must contain hot drinks.

"I don't suppose there's tea in one of those cups?" he asked hopefully. He didn't usually like to drink anything caffeinated this late at night, but the day had been stressful and long, and he knew it wasn't over yet.

"There is," Ziva told him. "Let me go get it for you. Cream?"

"Yes, please. That would be lovely," Ducky answered her quietly with a smile.

"Would you like something to eat? We brought bagels, muffins and a variety of sandwiches," she offered.

"I don't suppose the bagels are from Rose's?" Ducky named Gibbs' favorite deli.

"Would we dare bring them from anywhere else?" Ziva chuckled softly.

"Then by all means, yes," Ducky said. "Just plain, I think. They don't need any help being delicious."

Ziva brought him the tea and bagel, and he was almost done eating it when Gibbs began to move restlessly in the recliner, and mutter in his sleep. All three of them looked over at where he lay.

"Bad dreams," Ziva commented.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Something we are all familiar with, I fear," Ducky observed. Ziva and Tim nodded, although neither one felt inclined to explore that subject further. "I need to wake him up soon. He made me promise to get him up before the next visiting hour. The coffee and food you've brought will be a welcome additional fortification."

They visited quietly for a few more minutes while Ducky finished his bagel, and then he sighed, set his cup of tea aside, and stood back up. He went over to Gibbs, and gently shook his shoulder. Gibbs' eyes flew open, and he sat bolt upright in the chair.

"What's wrong?" he asked, before he even had time to get his bearings.

"Nothing at all, everything's fine," Ducky assured him quickly. "It's just time to wake up," he said soothingly.

Gibbs visibly relaxed, and then he saw Ziva and McGee. "What are you doing here? Did you get Dietrich?" he barked.

"Jethro!" Ducky admonished.

"Um, not yet," McGee stammered at the same time.

"They're at a standstill for the night, and so came up here to check on Tony, whom they are worried about. They've also brought refreshments," Ducky glared at Gibbs, his tone providing censure for Gibbs' greeting.

Gibbs winced internally. Ducky was right to be disgusted with him. Hadn't he vowed to himself to try and fix his team? 'That sure as hell wasn't the way,' he silently reprimanded himself. "Any coffee?" he asked, working to make sure his voice was more even.

"Of course," McGee said, as he stood and hurried over to the table to fetch Gibbs a cup. As he handed it to his boss, he began to bring him up to date on the investigation. When he was done explaining their plans for the morning, Gibbs nodded in approval.

"That'll work," Gibbs told him, as he stood up and wandered over to see what kind of food they had brought. Grabbing a ham and cheese sandwich, he asked, "Ducky brief you on Tony?"

"He did," Ziva said. "I know Tony will be fine. He always wins the odds."

Gibbs looked at her quizzically. He was still trying to wake up, and wasn't quite up to translating Ziva's unique approach to English idioms. McGee supplied, "Beats the odds, Ziva."

"Ah, yes, beats the odds. Tony always beats the odds. He will not stop doing that now. He is too pig headed," she said with confidence.

Gibbs hoped she was right. Six months ago, he would have been sure, but now….He just didn't know. What would happen if he ordered Tony not to die? Once upon a time he held that kind of sway with Tony; did he still? He wasn't sure, but he was sure going to try next time he went in to see him. He looked back over at his agents and was spared from having to come up with something else to say by Abby, who had been awakened by the talking.

"Ziva, Timmy!" she squealed when she saw them. "I'm so glad you're here," she said, as she lunged out of her chair and rushed over to where they were standing together. She wrapped them both in a bear hug, and squeezed tight. Gibbs watched from the side.

"They need to be here, Jethro. Surely you can see that," Ducky said very quietly beside him.

"I get it," Gibbs told him. "I may be a bastard, but I'm not stupid."

"No, that's true, although there are times you can be incredibly dense," Ducky answered pointedly, even though he softened his words by resting a hand on Gibbs' shoulder.

"Not gonna deny it," Gibbs grunted. The three younger people had separated finally and McGee had gone to retrieve Abby's Caf-Pow from the table. Abby was talking in a quiet, yet animated voice with Ziva about something that Gibbs didn't even try to follow. He was content just to watch them. Abby's hands were gesturing freely as she spoke, and Ziva listened with a small half smile on her face. Her shoulders were relaxed and all of her attention was focused on the forensic scientist. When McGee got back over to them, both women turned and smiled at him, drawing him into their conversation. There was almost an invisible circle around the three, binding them together as they sought solace from one another. He and Tony used to be a part of that, and they'd been stronger for it. He needed to get them back there, to complete the circle once again.

* * *

Tony was thinking about Ducky now. The older man had become a surrogate grandfather to him over the years, and Tony trusted him in a way he trusted very few people. He talked to Ducky about subjects he wouldn't ever discuss with anyone else besides Gibbs, things he wouldn't even broach with Abby. Not because he didn't trust her, but rather because he didn't think she would fully understand. Normally he would have gone to Ducky when the situation at home had started to become strained, but this time he hadn't. Maybe if he had, Ducky could have helped him get a better perspective on what was going on, and he could have found a solution. But Tony hadn't wanted to bother the elderly ME. He had known that Ducky was consumed with the logistics and worry caused by his mother's health problems, and he hadn't wanted to compound his distress. He'd told himself that things would work themselves out naturally, if he was just patient. He hadn't counted on running out of time.

It was funny how he and Ducky had grown so close, Tony thought. They were such very different types of people, their friendship shouldn't have worked. Ducky was filled with infinite patience, and Tony always wanted things to happen immediately. And although Ducky could talk a blue streak, and his stories always had a point if you examined them closely, the older man knew just when to be direct, as if he had a radar that told him when the moment was right. Tony, on the other hand, often had to be backed into a corner before he would say exactly what he was thinking, and even then he'd look for a way around it. Maybe it was true what they said; maybe opposites did attract. There was one thing they had in common, though. They both got Gibbs. It was that commonality that had first brought them together.

"_Hello, my dear boy," Ducky greeted Tony as he walked into his hospital room. "I'm delighted to see you looking a tad better."_

_Tony tried to answer the ME, but instead, he jerked forward in the bed, as a coughing fit got the better of him. _

"_Here, allow me," Ducky said, while he thumped Tony on the back and wiped at his mouth with a tissue he'd magically produced. "I know the coughing is a nuisance, but it does help get all of the unhealthy gunk out of your lungs, Tony," he said reassuringly. _

_Tony was embarrassed by situation and managed to weakly choke out, "Thanks, I'm fine."_

_Ducky laughed at that, and said, "You're a long way from fine, but you will get there." Too weak to answer, Tony sank back against the pillow. "A couple of days ago, I was worried that wouldn't be the case," Ducky confided. _

_Having caught his breath somewhat, Tony asked, "Shouldn't you be at work?"_

"_I'll get there eventually. My patients will wait for me," the ME told him with a mischievous grin. "I thought you might enjoy a little company for a while. Besides, I'd just as soon avoid Jethro at the moment. He's been a bear ever since you opened that envelope, barking and snapping at everyone."_

"_He hates when someone gets something past him, and sneaking Y. pestis into headquarters definitely counts as that," Tony commented._

"_I think it's a little more than that, don't you?" Ducky asked with a raised eyebrow. Tony looked at him, trying to decide how to answer that question._

_Tony considered saying something flippant about Gibbs being mad at him for opening the letter, and having to take it out on everyone else since he wasn't there. But there was something about Ducky's expression that stopped his, a kind of no nonsense, this is serious look that Tony couldn't ignore. He knew Gibbs wasn't really mad at him, since he'd been up to see him several times since it happened, and he'd never once said anything about Tony's usurping the letter. If Gibbs was truly angry, he wouldn't have hesitated to mention it, even if Tony was in a hospital bed. Instead, his boss would come up, ask about how he was feeling, and give him an update on what the team was doing, all the while watching Tony like a hawk, assessing his condition for himself. When Tony had one of his uncontrollable coughing fits, Gibbs would pound him on the back without comment, but once or twice Tony had seen something in his expression that had surprised him. Fear. Tony had had plenty of time to think about that as he lay in his bed, and the only explanation he'd been able to come up with was that Gibbs was concerned about his well-being, and while that thrilled him, it also confused him. _

_He wanted Gibbs. He had since the very first time he'd seen him stalk into a crime scene, back in Baltimore. Over the last few years he'd never really worked to hide that from his boss; he'd strutted, clowned, teased, anything that got him Gibbs' attention. Yet Tony had never seen any sign that suggested the other man had similar feelings. Even when Gibbs had strode into the blue sterile room, bopped him on the head, and given him the order not to die, Tony hadn't changed his assessment of the situation. But now, when it was just the two of them in his room, Tony occasionally thought he might have been wrong. _

"_Maybe," he finally allowed, in answer to Ducky's earlier question._

"_He was frightened. Jethro doesn't like to be scared," Ducky said with certainty. "That doesn't fit in with his world view."_

"_Just what is that?" Tony asked before he could stop himself._

"_I wouldn't attempt to define it, although I suspect it might be undergoing some alterations at the moment. That would be sure to make him grouchy," Ducky said with a smile._

Ducky had stayed and visited for quite some time that day, and he'd continued coming back every single day that Tony had been in the hospital. He'd told him stories about when he was younger, and had included some that featured Gibbs, as well. All of the stories seemed to have had themes about patience and going after what you wanted most, although Ducky never pointed that out in their general discussions. With each visit Tony had opened up a little more, and by the time he'd been discharged, he and the elderly ME gotten to know each other quite well. Once he'd been discharged, the friendship had continued. Even after Tony and Gibbs did actually manage to get together, quite a while later, he and Ducky would occasionally have dinner together, and over time the older man had seemed to develop a sixth sense about when Tony needed a friendly ear and a word of advice.

He would miss him, of that Tony was sure. He felt a momentary tinge of guilt. Here he was, thinking about himself, and he hadn't really given much thought to all the important people in his life. His death was sure to have caused a great deal of grief. Abby would be inconsolable; Ducky and Gibbs would have their hands full holding her together. It had probably ramped up all of McGee's old insecurities as well, reminding him that their job was indeed dangerous. As for Ziva, he wasn't sure how she would be reacting. He knew she wouldn't outwardly show any emotion, but he suspected that she would miss him in her own way. He just hoped she didn't let it harden her heart any further.

And then there was Gibbs….At first Tony tried to tell himself that Gibbs would be okay, but the more he thought about it, the more he worried that might not be true. Things might not have been good between them recently, but that didn't mean Jethro would be unaffected by his passing. He began to worry that it would cause him to re-experience all the pain from when Shannon and Kelly had been taken from him, and Tony wasn't sure he was strong enough right now, to get through that again. Tony wished he hadn't let himself retreat behind closed doors. Wished he'd told Gibbs how important he was to him. Wished he'd told him this morning that he loved him, so Jethro had that to hang on to. But he hadn't. Now, all he could do was hope that somehow, Gibbs knew it anyway, and that that, combined with his need to help Abby, would see him through.


	8. Chapter 8

"**No Bravery"**

**Chapter Eight**

_Gibbs had Tony pressed up against the side of the boat, and was running his hands up and down Tony's bare chest, as his mouth worked frantically to kiss every inch of his exposed skin. Tony tried to reach out to pull him into an embrace, but Gibbs pushed his arms back against the ribs of the boat. "Just let me," he growled as his mouth sank back onto Tony's neck, while he held Tony's hands still. He worked his way down to the bruises that ran across Tony's abdomen, and gently licked his tongue across them, as if he were attempting to wash them away. When he got to the strip of skin right above the waistband of Tony's pants, he finally released the younger man's hands, so he could unfasten the button fly, and pull down the jeans and underwear in one fell swoop. Upon seeing the angry red and purple discoloration on Tony's pelvic bones, he snarled, "God damn it!" He covered those bruises in kisses too, before he moved lower. Tony was panting with need by the time Gibbs finally engulfed his leaking cock with his mouth. _

That had only been less than a year ago, Tony realized. They'd been on a mission that had gone spectacularly wrong, and Tony had ended up getting jumped by three of the suspected drug traffickers they'd been trying to capture. He'd held his own, knocking one of them out, but the numbers had been against him. By the time Gibbs got to him, he'd been wrestling on the ground with one of the fugitives, while another one kicked the living shit out of him. Gibbs hadn't even bothered to try and pull them off. He'd identified himself, and when they hadn't stopped, he'd just pulled his gun and fired. Then he'd watched Tony like a hawk the whole time they'd been at headquarters filling out paperwork. He'd stood in the morgue, silent but alert as Ducky had examined Tony and decreed him battered but unbroken. And then, when they'd gotten home, after a very silent drive, he'd dragged Tony to the basement and had conducted his own assessment of Tony's condition.

He'd examined, kissed, and lightly touched every square inch of Tony's body, before he'd finally brought Tony off. After Tony was done, Gibbs had just stood back up and hugged him. He'd sought no release himself, and had gently rebuffed Tony's attempts to take it to the next level. It hadn't been about sex for him. Tony remembered how Gibbs' hands had shook as he held him close, how he'd buried his face in Tony's hair and inhaled deeply, over and over again. It had been about Gibbs assuring himself that Tony was alright, and it had touched Tony more than any sweet words ever could. He'd felt cherished, loved, and safe. He hadn't thought anything could ever drive them apart, but he'd been wrong.

No point in dwelling on that, he told himself. What was done was done. Better to go on thinking about the happier times. After all, sometimes, when he thought hard enough about them, it was almost as if Gibbs was there beside him, and he relished the feeling. Maybe it meant that Gibbs was thinking about him, wherever he was.

* * *

Gibbs was back in Tony's room for another visit. The night was fast giving way to day, and as he stood beside the bed, he could see the sun starting to rise outside the window. McGee and Ziva had settled right in to the vigil that was being held in the waiting room, keeping Abby and Ducky company, and sharing their favorite Tony stories as they sat and waited. He'd been surprised by how many mundane moments in their work a day life had become fond memories for his team. He'd found it oddly comforting. He'd forgotten there was more to the job than just catching perps. Listening to the others talk, and seeing them smile, had reminded him of how much fun going to work used to be. Although he had rarely participated in the shenanigans that happened around the bullpen, most of which had been instigated by Tony, he'd always enjoyed watching to see how they would play out. There hadn't been that kind of carefree abandon in a long time, work was now just a drudgery they all suffered through. As he stood next to Tony's bed thinking back over the last few months, it occurred to him how lucky he was that they were all still there. He'd made all their lives a living hell.

"I need to do better," he said to Tony. "McGee and Ziva are out in the waiting room with Ducky and Abby. They were talking about the time you super glued down everything on McGee's desk, including his telephone receiver. Do you remember that, Tony? He was so angry he couldn't formulate words, and you aggravated the situation by sitting over at your desk secretly calling him over and over again. Then we caught a case, and when he went to pick up his bag, it was glued to the floor. Thought there was a fifty-fifty chance he was either going to deck you or start to cry. You know what he just told Abby, though? He said he didn't really mind, said as long as you felt he was worth teasing then he knew he was doing something right. He looked proud when he told her that."

Gibbs fell silent again, as he thought about what had been said. Tony had been good at mentoring McGee in his own unique way. He'd teased, bullied, and even threatened the younger man, but he'd also been there every time McGee had really needed him. When McGee shot someone for the first time, it had been Tony who'd gone to him. The times that Gibbs had let McGee take the lead on something, Tony had goaded and pushed at him. That had caused McGee to concentrate on proving Tony wrong, rather than obsessing over whether he could actually get the job done. Even Tony's continual ribbings about McGee being some kind of super geek had helped to bolster the junior agent's confidence by reminding him he had skills none of the others possessed. And he'd done the same sort of thing for Ziva, only in a very different manner. In his unique way, Tony had been just as responsible for the success of their team as he was. Perhaps even more so, because if he was the strength behind their team, then Tony was the heart and soul.

"Agent Gibbs?"

He spun towards the door. It was the nurse.

"I'm sorry to bother your visit, but I've been thinking," she said hesitantly, as if seeking permission to continue. When Gibbs nodded at her, she continued. "I couldn't help but notice the new people in the waiting room. Every time I come into the room to get you, they all look up at me so expectantly. Are they friends or co-workers?"

'Good question,' Gibbs thought to himself. "Both," was his answer.

"You know, it's late, and there isn't really anyone around right now. I might be able to bend the rules a little just this once, and let them in for a couple of minutes to see him. Maybe two at a time, with you accompanying them? Sometimes it really helps to see the person you're worried about, just to reassure yourself that they're still there, and working to get better. And besides, it might help Tony to know they are here, pulling for him."

Gibbs looked at her, thinking about what she'd just offered. Would it help, either them or Tony? He wasn't sure, but it definitely couldn't hurt. "That'd work," he told her. "When do you want to do it? They're going to have to leave soon to go back to work."

She looked surprised when he said that. "After being here all night?" she asked, aghast.

"They aren't going to want to stop until they get who did this to him," he answered, knowing it was the truth, and realizing that made him proud. That was something he'd overlooked lately. The pride he took in his own team for the work they did, and for their dedication. She shot a quick glance over at Tony when he said that, then looked back at him and nodded.

"Alright then," she said. "Let's do it now. I go off shift in a couple of hours, so we'd need to do it soon, anyway. Who's first?"

'Ziva and McGee,' he thought. Ducky had already been in to see Tony, and Abby was going to take it the hardest. It would be better if it was just he and she when her time came round. "I'll go out there with you," he offered. "Let them know what's happening."

Together they went back to the waiting room. He quickly told the others about what the nurse was offering, and laid out his plans for the visits. The variety of responses didn't surprise him. Ducky nodded in approval when he heard the plan, and Abby literally jumped up and down in excitement. Ziva squared her shoulders, as if preparing for battle, and McGee's face showed a combination of thankfulness and fear. Walking behind them as the nurse led the way to Tony's room, he couldn't help but notice when Ziva reached over and gave McGee's forearm a brief squeeze right before they entered.

They were standing awkwardly just inside the door when Gibbs got into the room, looking over at where Tony lay and surveying all of the machines that were helping to keep him alive. "Go say hello," he grunted. "The nurse said he might be able to hear us."

Not surprisingly, it was Ziva who first moved. Taking McGee's elbow, she took a few steps towards the bed, leading her partner closer as she approached. "Hello Tony. It is Ziva. I have McGee here, also," she told him.

"Hi," McGee managed to squeeze out, his voice tight and unsure.

Neither one said anything else for a few moments, and Gibbs didn't push it. He knew how hard it was to talk to Tony's inert body. Finally Ziva cleared her throat, and spoke again. "If you wanted some time off, it might have been easier just to ask for some vacation time," she joked lamely. "There are nicer places to lie around. Perhaps you need to get better and go visit one." When she was done, she looked over at McGee, indicating that he should now speak.

"Um, we're going to get Dietrich for you," Tim blurted out, then glanced uncertainly at Gibbs to see if that had been an okay thing to say.

"McGee and Ziva are doing a good job," Gibbs told Tony, although the message was really intended for his other two agents.

They managed to say a few more, innocuous things to Tony before the nurse appeared at the door.

Taking that as his cue, Gibbs told them, "Time to go."

Ziva and McGee offered brief farewells, and turned to leave. Just before they were out of the room, McGee turned back and said, "Hurry up and get better, Tony. It's not the same without you." The truth of that statement hung in the air as they walked back to the waiting room.

Abby was much more subdued when they got there, her initial excitement having been supplanted by the seriousness of the situation. "You ready, Abs?" Gibbs asked her.

Her head bobbed up and down, but she didn't speak, and her eyes were enormous. Before he had a chance to say anything to her, Ziva said softly to her, "It will be fine. Just talk to him normally. If he can hear you, he will be glad you are there."

Abby gave her a brief hug of thanks, then turned to Gibbs. "Okay," she told him. Gibbs wrapped an arm around her shoulder and steered her into the unit.

He kept his arm around her as they entered Tony's room, knowing she would appreciate the reassurance it offered. He could feel her breath hitch when she saw Tony, but her steps never faltered. Together they crossed the room and stood at the side of the bed. When he released her shoulder, Abby immediately reached down and drew one of Tony's hands into her own.

"Hey there, Tony boy," she said quietly. "It's me, Abby, your Goth princess. Pretty snazzy setup they've got going in here. I'll bet this all reminds you of some movie. Guess you'll have to wake up, so you can tell me all about it. Hey, that reminds me! You know what I realized on my way over here? I realized it's been a couple of months since our last movie night. What's that about?" she chided. She seemed to be relaxing now, as she got on a roll. Like Ducky, Abby was not typically ever at a loss for words. "There's no point in giving me excuses why that is. You can tear yourself away from Gibbs at least a few times each month. If you don't do something to remedy the situation, I'm going to go back to watching all of Julia Roberts' romantic comedies over and over again, and I know what you think about them," she threatened. "Then, before you know it, I'll sink all the way down, and start watching my old DVDs of 'The Brady Bunch' and 'The Partridge Family'. You don't want that to happen, do you?"

Gibbs glanced over at her. Even though her voice was cheerful, tears were coursing down her face.

"Tony?" Abby asked, and looked at him expectantly. When she got no response, she dragged the back of her hand across her eyes, then continued to talk. "Okay, I admit it's been partially my fault too. Don't give me the silent treatment. I'm sorry I've been so busy lately. I got caught up helping out at the convent, but I know that's no excuse. When you get out of here, we need to do something special. I promise to be a better friend." Her voice broke on the last sentence, and Gibbs reached over and pulled her to his chest.

"You're the best friend he could have. He knows that, Abs," he whispered. When she worked to stifle a sob, he knew he had to get her out of there. She'd had all she could take for the time being. "Come on, tell him goodbye for now. We'll find a way to sneak you in here again tomorrow."

She pulled away from him, and bent down over the bed to kiss the top of Tony's head. A tear dripped off her face and rolled across his forehead. Reaching a finger out, she gently rubbed it off. "Go ahead and sleep for now, Tony," she murmured. "I hope you're having sweet dreams. Rest up, but promise me you'll wake up soon, okay? I'll be back to visit with you tomorrow." That said, she turned back into Gibbs' embrace, and together they left the room.

* * *

Tony was drifting from one memory to the next now, in no discernible pattern. One minute he'd be thinking about Gibbs, and the next he'd recall something that happened at work. When his thoughts lighted on his first day at NCIS, he worked hard to slow down the process, wanting to savor that particular remembrance. It had been one of the most important days of his life, even though, at the time, he hadn't realized how his life was about to change.

Tony had been nervous that day. He'd moved from one police department after another in a matter of a few years, and he was tired of it. He had wanted this job to work out, had hoped it would provide him with whatever had been missing at the other places. Unfortunately, he hadn't been quite sure what that was, which had contributed to his unease. How was he ever going to find the right fit, he'd worried, when he didn't really know what he was looking for? To cover his discomfort, he'd opted for his best suit that morning, and when he'd gotten to NCIS's lobby, he'd accessorized it with his biggest, most self confidant smile. He'd managed to keep the grin firmly in place during his orientation, all the way through Gibbs' tour of the bullpen and autopsy, and right up until they'd landed in the forensics lab, and he'd met Abby for the first time.

"_Gibbs!" the dark haired, exotic looking woman screamed when they walked into the room, her voice so loud she temporarily drowned out the music that was reverberating off the walls. She extended her arms, ran towards them, clomping all the way on dangerously high platform boots, and threw herself into his new boss's arms. Tony studied her as she hugged the older man. She was Goth from the top of her head right down to the steel tips of those black leather boots. He could see part of a spider web tattoo on her neck, as it peaked out over the top of her lab coat, and she was wearing red plaid pants that had almost as many chains attached to them as the fabric had zippers. Her black t-shirt announced that she was a 'slave to science', and she had black lace gauntlets on, that were partially covered by a pair of latex gloves. _

"_Abby, this is Tony DiNozzo, my new agent. DiNozzo, meet Abby Sciuto, our forensic specialist." _

_She pulled her head back and studied him, looking him up and down. He turned up the wattage on his smile, wanting to win her over, since she was clearly special to Gibbs. Her face went from happy to disapproving in a flash. He'd finally met someone who seemed to be immune to his charms. _

"_I'm also Gibbs' favorite," she announced, her eyes flashing. _

_Tony wanted to take a step back, the antagonism was so intense, but his pride wouldn't let him. Instead he just smiled even more, and said, "Well, I can see why," in his most flirtatious voice. He wasn't prepared for when Gibbs reached over and whapped him on the back of his head. _

"_Rule Number Twelve – never date a coworker," he was informed, as he rubbed at the sore spot._

"_Not a chance," Abby assured the older man. "I don't date jocks."_

_Tony was about to open his mouth to defend himself when Gibbs told him, "Don't bother. It won't do you any good." Then, turning to Abby, he admonished, "Try to be nice."_

_She hmpfed at him, then turned her attention back to Tony. "So, you'd better keep the bossman safe, or you'll have to deal with me. That's Abby's Rule Number One."_

_Not knowing exactly how to respond to that, and wondering silently if he needed a notebook to start recording all these new rules in, he settled for saluting, and saying, "Yes, Ma'am." She raised an eyebrow at his impertinence, but chose to ignore it. _

_After asking Abby about some evidence she was processing for him, Gibbs announced. "That's the tour. Let's get started," and he turned and headed back towards the elevator. That left Tony and Abby standing there looking at each other._

_Deciding he was going to get the last word in, Tony smiled at her one more time, and said, "Nice music by the way. Although I prefer Green Satan to Suicide Commando." When her mouth fell open and she looked at him in amazement, he gave silent thanks to the punk rock kid he'd mentored through the Big Brothers program back in Philadelphia, while he tried to hide his smirk. 'Let her try to figure out this jock,' he thought._

_As the doors to the elevator closed, Gibbs looked over at him, and smiled. Tony felt that smile travel straight down to his groin. 'Rule Number Twelve,' he reminded himself as the elevator lurched upward._

Winning over Abby hadn't been easy, but Tony had always liked a challenge. He'd learned that first day that sweet talk wasn't going to get him anywhere, so he'd resorted to an arsenal of other tricks. He had no problem stooping to bribery, and Gibbs, who seemed amused by Tony's mission, had supplied him with information on Abby's preferences. It became Tony's mission in life to make sure that she always had a fresh Caf-Pow. Even when they were out on cases, he had taken care of that. Five dollar tips had ensured that the kid in the lobby snack bar was more than willing to run down a drink to Abby, and charge it to the tab Tony had arranged to run. Chocolates and other sweets also had begun to mysteriously appear on Abby's desk, as had the occasional black rose. He had also used humor. He took to emailing her a daily joke, and had looked for every opportunity he could find to say something witty whenever he was down in her lab.

Most importantly though, he'd remembered what she'd told him the very first day, "Better keep the bossman safe," and he had. He'd taken hits for Gibbs, had trailed behind him in the field, watching like a hawk to make sure no one got to him. He'd volunteer to do anything that needed doing if it seemed even remotely dangerous, all the while working to learn how to be an NCIS agent. It wasn't really her admonishment that had driven him to do those things; it was his job, after all, a job he had slowly fallen in love with. But he also hadn't wanted to let her down. For some reason, Abby's good opinion had become very important to him.

Over time, Abby had begun to thaw. It had happened in increments. First it had been the addition of a 'thank you' when he brought her evidence. Then there had been the occasional times she would return a joke after he told her one. The day he had pushed Gibbs out of the way of a runaway car, Abby had actually smiled at him and asked if he was all right. When Ducky had ended up giving him ten stitches on his arm after he'd gotten slashed by a knife yielding perp, she'd presented him with a box of black band aids covered in skulls and crossbones. Then had come the day, he'd shot a drug runner, right before the man had pulled the trigger on the gun he had aimed at Gibbs' head. That evening she'd asked him if he wanted to grab a beer. He'd gone with her. After several pitchers and hours of dancing, a friendship had been born.

Remembering all that got Tony to thinking about the nature of his relationship with Abby. It was, had been, he corrected himself, remembering that he was dead, one of those rare male/female relationships that existed without a lot of unresolved sexual tension. After all, Abby had been right when she had pointed out on that first day that he was a jock, and she was a Goth. And even though neither one of them was so shallow that they were defined by their 'type', and therefore unable to look past outward appearances, there hadn't been any initial sparks. Then, as their friendship had begun to deepen, there hadn't been the opportunity for attraction to grow. Abby had been seeing someone else, and Tony had been busily engaged in trying to date every beautiful woman and man he met, in an attempt to fool himself into believing he wasn't falling head over heels in love with his inaccessible boss. Instead they became like siblings, with Tony as the protective and playful older brother, and Abby as the bratty and nosy little sister.

Because of that, they'd ended up telling each other secrets they might otherwise not have. It had been Abby who had finally called him on his feelings towards Gibbs, claiming she could tell just by seeing the way Tony watched the older man, as she'd urged him to pursue it. Then he'd turned to Abby for solace after the first one night stand on the day after Kate had been killed, when it became clear Gibbs wasn't ready to explore the relationship further. When he and Gibbs had finally gotten it right, Abby had immediately known. That was just the way things had worked between the two of them, right up until the last few months. He hadn't been able to seek her out when things began to go wrong. He couldn't bring himself to admit to her that he had somehow failed, that he wasn't enough for Gibbs. It was too humiliating, plus he didn't want to place her in an uncomfortable position. He knew she cared about them both, and he didn't want her to feel as though she had to choose sides. It hadn't been like that anyway. There hadn't been ugly arguments; they weren't getting a 'divorce'. Instead there was just a suffocating emptiness that he couldn't understand. So his solution had been to avoid her whenever possible, in an attempt to shelter her. And now, he wouldn't ever get a chance to fix that either.

'Coulda, woulda, shouda,' he thought. Surely this wasn't how he was going to have to spend all of eternity.


	9. Chapter 9

"**No Bravery"**

**Chapter Nine**

Gibbs was once again in the waiting room, but this time he was by himself. Morning had finally arrived, and the rest of the team had gone back to Headquarters. Ducky had promised to stop by over the lunch hour, and Abby intended to return at the end of the day. Ziva and McGee hadn't said what their plans were, other than catching Dietrich, an agenda Gibbs wholeheartedly endorsed. He'd instructed them to call him the minute they had a lead on the SOB, since Gibbs had every intention of being the one to interrogate the bastard.

He was actually relieved to have the time alone. Last night had been a revelation for him, in many ways. He'd been humbled by how his team had come together to offer their support, and by how much they relied on one another for strength. He'd had a gunny sergeant once who repeated over and over again that a unit was only as strong as its weakest member. He had no idea how he'd managed to forget that lesson. He'd neglected his team, hadn't kept them strong, but somehow, he'd been lucky. They were still there, and he was going to get another chance to do right by them.

He'd also had a lot of time to think about his relationship with Tony, or rather, the lack of one, he corrected himself. There was yet another miracle; it was a miracle that Tony was still sharing his bed, even if lately he was only doing so from the far opposite side of the mattress. When they'd started, he'd pledged to himself to go about things differently, thinking the three failed marriages must have taught him something, but apparently he'd been wrong. He supposed he'd spent too much time hidden in a basement, behind a closed door. Over the years he'd forgotten how to truly share, if he'd ever known at all. Maybe he had once, with Shannon, but never since. He'd thought it would be easier with Tony. He loved him, in a way he hadn't loved anyone since Shannon and Kelly, and yet he'd shut him out. It wasn't as if he'd done it on purpose, he told himself; it had just happened, slowly and almost imperceptibly. One night spent alone downstairs, because the day had been so awful he couldn't shake it off, had stretched to another night, and then another, until finally being apart had become the norm.

He couldn't even reassure himself by saying that Tony shared in the blame. On one level, it was true. Tony could have come to him at any point and asked what was wrong, why he was shutting him out. But if he were being honest, he would have to admit that he knew that would never happen. He'd known from the beginning that Tony had problems with relationships. He'd had a string of bad ones over the years, and even though Gibbs didn't know the particulars on most of them, he did realize it had left Tony skittish and insecure about opening himself up too far. Ever since the first time they'd made love, he'd let Gibbs take the lead and set the rules. At first Gibbs had been surprised by that. When they were at work Tony could be pushy and brash. In their private moments, however, there was submissiveness to him, as if he needed the release that allowing someone else to take control provided for him.

That didn't even touch on Tony's abandonment issues, which had started when he was a child, and had continued all the way up through his screwed up undercover mission with Jeanne Benoit. Tony wasn't likely to do anything that he thought might drive away someone important to him, and confronting Gibbs about being distant would certainly qualify as such to him. And hell, this wasn't just paranoia on Tony's part, Gibbs reminded himself. Why wouldn't Tony be worried he might leave him? Hadn't he done exactly that once before, when he retreated to Mexico, leaving Tony to hold the team together? The one time they'd discussed it, Tony had told him it had hurt worse than the time his father had left him in a hotel room in Hawaii when he was a child; and that had even been before they were officially 'together'. There was absolutely no way Tony would do anything that might, at least in his own mind's eye, lead to a similar incident.

So that left him holding the proverbial bag, a position Gibbs was extremely uncomfortable with. He realized that he'd allowed himself to get bogged down by the demands of the job, letting the ugliness of their recent cases get to him. He hadn't thought about his team or his lover. He'd completely ignored the fact that if things were bothering him, then they were probably having as hard, if not harder, a time coping, and that they would be looking towards him for leadership. He was guilty of what he hated most in others, self absorption, he told himself bitterly. Look at what it had gotten him. He had a team that was barely hanging together, and Tony was lying in a hospital bed, more dead than alive.

He was saved from any more self recrimination when a man appeared in the doorway.

"I thought I might find you here," he said to Gibbs.

Gibbs studied him, trying to figure out who he was. His light brown hair was receding, and there was grey around the edges. He had a well muscled body, even if there was a little too much of him around the middle, and one of those wide, friendly faces that were hard to pin an age on. At first glance he appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties, but upon further examination, one began to see a series of little wrinkles around his eyes and mouth that suggested he might be considerably older. He was dressed in a well worn pair of khakis and a tucked in, casual short sleeved plaid sports shirt, and although he looked familiar, Gibbs couldn't quite place him.

"Dan Spencer," the man said, stepping further into the room, and extending his hand to Gibbs. "I was one of the officers who responded to your APB on Dietrich," he elaborated when he noted Gibbs' confusion. "Not surprised you don't recognize me. Yesterday had to have been a real bad day for you."

When he said that, Gibbs nodded and stood up to shake his hand. He knew who he was now; he just looked different out of uniform. Gibbs remembered having immediately liked the guy. There hadn't been any of the defensiveness they so often ran into with local law enforcement personnel, and he'd seemed dedicated and competent.

"I remember," he told Spencer. "Just took a sec, it's been a long night," he offered by way of explanation.

"Yeah, I'll bet. Sorry to barge in, but I was here visiting my daughter. She's married to a Marine, and they just gave me my first grandchild last night." Despite the circumstances, he couldn't keep a grin from spreading out over his face when he shared that piece of information, and Gibbs liked him all the more for it. "Anyway," Spencer said, sobering up, "thought I'd stop in to see if you were here, and to ask after your partner. I hope he's doing better."

"He's holding his own. He's in a coma," Gibbs grunted out.

"Aw man, I hate hearing that," the cop told him. "But he's in the right place. The docs here are the best."

That had been just the right response, Gibbs thought. No apologies, as if it were somehow his fault, and no platitudes full of empty promises.

"Hey, you want to grab a quick coffee, or do you need to stay here?" Spencer asked him.

Gibbs looked at his watch, 0908, a little over fifty minutes before the next visiting hour. He'd already talked to the doctors this morning, who'd told him that the repairs from the surgery seemed to be holding, and that they really couldn't make any predictions about the coma. There was nothing holding him in the room, other than his own need to be as close as possible to Tony, but fresh coffee and a brief change of scenery were enticing.

"Sure," he answered. They had his cell number at the desk. If something went wrong with Tony, they'd call, besides, he'd only be gone for a short while. "Coffee shop here okay with you?"

"That'll work," Spencer agreed.

Together they went down to the lobby. After they'd both gotten themselves a large black coffee and a bagel, which Spencer insisted on paying for, they settled down in at a table. "So, how long you two been partners?" Spencer asked, as he blew on his coffee to cool it off.

Gibbs considered the question, there were a couple of ways to answer that, he thought wryly. "Nine years. Tony came to me from Homicide over at Baltimore PD."

"Then he must be a good investigator," the cop observed. "Baltimore is picky about who they assign to their 'Murders R Us' squad. I didn't get a real good look at him yesterday, but he looked fairly young. If he's been with you for nine years, then he must have been real young to make detective. Speaks even more highly of him."

"He is," Gibbs agreed. "From the start, he had lots of raw natural talent, but was a little low on discipline," he said with a slight smile, as he remembered his early days with Tony. Tony had been eager to please, was full of energy and had great instincts, but he'd needed to be reigned in on a daily basis. "Took about a million head slaps before I got him trained up, but now he's my second in command."

Spencer nodded. He saw the pride on Gibbs' face, and he could relate. He'd had a lot of partners over the years, many of them fresh out of the academy and greener than grass. He'd purposely chosen to stay in a uniform, having turned down a series of promotions over the years that would have put him behind a desk, because he enjoyed working a beat. He knew how satisfying it was to work with a young partner, to see them learn and advance. Hell, he'd actually been the one to train his sergeant, he thought in amusement. "It's a good feeling when they start to get it right," he observed.

"Yeah, it is," Gibbs agreed. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, eating and drinking. It was Gibbs who finally spoke again. "So, boy or girl?"

Spencer looked over at him, slightly confused. Then he realized what Gibbs was asking. "Boy," he announced with pride. "Just as handsome as his grandpa. Even has about the same amount of hair," he joked.

"Your daughter doing okay?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh yeah, she's tired, but sitting on cloud nine. My wife's still up there with her. Doubt if she's gonna be leaving any time soon. Cindy, that's my daughter, is our only child, so this is an even bigger deal. Gotta admit, it's kind of special welcoming someone new into the world. All that unconditional love. Puts everything into perspective, you know? Balances out all the bad things we deal with on a daily basis. You got kids, Gibbs?"

"Had. A daughter. She and her mother were killed when she was nine." It had been a long time since he'd voluntarily revealed so much about himself.

"That's rough. Your team must be your family now," Spencer sympathized.

This guy had an almost eerie way of getting to the truth of the matter, Gibbs thought. Abby and Ducky were definitely family, and he felt a kind of responsibility towards Ziva and McGee that was almost paternal. And then there was Tony, defining him as family didn't even begin to touch on how Gibbs felt about him. And he'd managed to let them all down. Not trusting himself to comment, he merely nodded in agreement.

Their bagels done, Spencer wiped his mouth with a napkin, and said, "Well, guess I gotta run. I go on duty at eleven, and I need to stop by the house to change. You hang in there, Gibbs. I'll try to stop back in and check on things. I want the chance to me your boy wonder. Sounds like he's a good'un."

"I'd like that," Gibbs told him. "And you're right. Tony's the best."

The cop stood up, clapped Gibbs on the back, and headed out. After stopping at the counter for a refill, Gibbs took himself back up to the waiting room, which was slowly beginning to fill with the family members of the other patients in the ICU.

Sinking down into a chair, he thought about what Spencer had said. When he'd been talking about his new grandson, he'd mentioned unconditional love, and how that served to counterbalance the hurt and evil they dealt with in their jobs. The man was right. That was what he'd managed to forget. He'd tried avoiding Tony, in some misguided attempt to shelter him from his foul mood, and all he'd succeeded in doing was hurting him. What he should have done was revel in the fact that he had Tony, and that he loved him. Rather than pushing him away, he should have drawn him closer. He'd been a fool, but at least he now knew it. Can't fix what you don't know is broken, he told himself. Now, if only Tony's body would heal, he'd try to take care of everything else.

The rest of the morning was a repeat of the night before. Gibbs got ten minutes with Tony, and then spent the next fifty waiting to do it again. It was getting easier to talk to him, now that he'd established a system. He spent the first several minutes talking about his favorite moments from their past, and the last couple urging Tony to get better fast, and to wake up. He ended every visit with an "I love you," and he no longer cared if some nurse or doctor heard him say it. He was done hiding their relationship from anyone. It felt wrong to him now, as if it cheapened things. He didn't intend to have a series of longwinded discussions with people, wherein he revealed his feelings for Tony, but he also wasn't going to deny that they existed. Those that were most important to him would catch on at their own speed. He had to trust that he'd read them right, and it wouldn't matter to them what Tony and he did in their private time. With any luck, they'd even be glad for them, although Gibbs didn't need their approval. And as for the powers that be at NCIS, if they couldn't accept it, or tried to transfer Tony, well, he'd just retire, and let Tony take over the team. He had enough years in, and he wasn't going to let the job get in his way again. It wasn't worth it, nothing was worth it. And the consequences were just too severe.

Ducky walked in at 1215, carrying Gibbs' ready bag. "I've made arrangements for you to use the shower in the doctors' locker room, Jethro, since I knew it was pointless to try and get you to go home for awhile," he told Gibbs upon arrival. "You're a mess. If Tony were to wake up right now, you'd scare him right back into a coma, and that is provided his heart didn't stop when he got a look at you. The water should refresh you, and you'll feel a bit more human if you're presentable again. When you get back, I will expect you to eat the sandwich I've brought for you and drink some orange juice. No one, even you, can subsist on coffee alone. Now, off you go. The locker room is just down the corridor to our left. You won't be able to miss the sign." He made little shooing motions with his hands, after he'd dropped the overnight bag on Gibbs' lap.

Gibbs didn't bother to argue, he just hied himself off. It took him less than fifteen minutes to get himself clean, and Ducky had been right, he did feel like a new man. When he got back to the ICU, he discovered that the ME had commandeered the small dining table in the room, and had laid out a lunch that consisted of an enormous turkey sandwich, some carrot sticks, an apple, and a bottle of juice. Gibbs looked over the spread. "Aren't you going to join me?" he asked, as he pulled up a chair.

"I have already eaten. Last night was long, and I needed food over an hour ago," he told Gibbs with a kind laugh. "I do, however, intend to sit right here and make sure you eat every last bite of that food."

"I did have a bagel earlier," Gibbs defended himself.

"I'm glad to hear that. I tells me you haven't completely lost your sense of self preservation. When I get back here this evening I will also expect you to sleep for a couple of hours, whilst I assume the privilege of visiting with Anthony. And there will be no arguing about that, either."

"When did you become so pushy?" Gibbs grumbled, although he didn't actually mind. He was feeling better than he had in some time, even given the circumstances. Getting clean had helped, but he believed it was his earlier resolutions that had made the biggest difference.

"Since I determined that with Tony ill, the team could not afford for you to drive yourself into the ground," Ducky told him crisply.

"I know that," he told his friend.

"Do you? Really?" Ducky inquired, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, I really do," Gibbs answered earnestly.

"There might be hope for you after all," the older man sassed with a cheeky grin.

"I hope so," he told Ducky. He never ceased to be amazed by Ducky's wisdom. In a few very short sentences they'd just said what others would have taken an hour attempting to express, and it wouldn't have been any more significant. For a loquacious man, Ducky knew when to be economical with his words.

"Did the doctors have anything new to say this morning?" Ducky inquired, once Gibbs had finished eating the food he'd provided him with.

"Not really," Gibbs told him. "Said everything looked good, and I needed to be patient."

Ducky snorted. "Obviously they didn't know who they were speaking to. I assume you've also spoken with either Ziva or Timothy?"

Gibbs nodded. He'd checked in with them a couple of hours ago, and had learned they had a series of interviews they were conducting with the members of Dietrich's unit. They'd call him if they came up with anything useful. "Yeah, nothing new yet, but they're working on it."

"That's good. I would not like to see that man get away with this," Ducky announced with a fierceness that might have surprised someone who didn't know him better.

"Oh, he won't, Ducks, I can promise you that." Gibbs sounded equally as deadly.

They visited for a bit longer, and then it was time for Gibbs to go in to see Tony again.

"I must be getting back," Ducky told him as they stood. "If everything goes well, I should be back shortly after five. Please give Anthony my regards."

"Will do," Gibbs told him, as he headed towards the door that led into the ICU inner sanctum.

* * *

"_What did you say to him?" Tony asked, trying to sound casual, even though his heart was thumping so loudly in his chest he was sure Jethro could hear it._

"_Told him we were both coming for the weekend," Gibbs answered._

"_Well, didn't he ask why? That had to seem strange to him," Tony pushed._

"_Nope. He just said that'd be fine, and he'd see us tonight," Gibbs told him, as he backed the car out of his drive._

_Tony wasn't sure what to say to that. They were on their way to Stillwater, and as excited as he was, Tony was also nervous. He hadn't really known how to take it when Gibbs had told him he needed to spend the long 4__th__ of July weekend with his father, and asked Tony if he wanted to come too. Was this a get to know the parent moment, or was he supposed to play the dutiful side kick? He had no idea, and Gibbs wasn't giving any hints. For all he knew, Gibbs wasn't even aware of his inner turmoil, although Tony rather doubted that. Gibbs was perfectly capable of knowing just what was going on in Tony's head, and deciding not to address it. He really could be a bastard. When he said "the second B is for bastard," he wasn't just delivering a funny line. It was actually more like a warning._

_Jackson was just getting ready to put the finishing touches on dinner when they arrived. Tony and Gibbs were immediately pressed into service. Tony was assigned the duty of setting the table, and Gibbs was charged with helping prepare the vegetables. As he set about his task, he could hear Gibbs and his father bickering good naturedly about how the green beans should be diced, and what spices to include. There was a familiarity to it, as if he were hearing an argument that had been going on for decades, with neither side holding out any hope of winning over the other. Once dinner was over, all three of them worked together to clear the table, and the dishes were efficiently washed. Again, Gibbs and his dad disagreed. This time over the way the pots and pans should be stacked on the drying rack. Not sure of whether the bickering would evolve into a real argument, Tony worked hard to be his most entertaining, telling funny stories about his ill fated, two week career as a busboy at a dinner club when he was in college. When they were all laughing, Jackson suggested they go into the den and put on a movie._

_Tony was elated over that suggestion. Movies were something he felt comfortable discussing. He was even more pleased to discover that Gibbs' father was a John Wayne buff, and he had almost every film the Duke had ever made. Gibbs and his dad immediately began debating which film to watch. Jackson was advocating "The Sons of Katie Elder." Gibbs wanted to see "Sands of Iwo Jima," although Tony suspected that was only because John Stryker, the character Wayne played in that film, was a Marine. Finally, when it became clear they had reached an impasse, Jackson turned to Tony._

"_You're the guest. You choose."_

_Well, there was no way he was going to pick a side. "True Grit," he declared. "The only film John Wayne ever won an Academy Award for. _

_The rest of the evening went smoothly. Half way through the movie, they paused it and made popcorn, and Tony and Jackson discussed whether John Wayne had been cheated out of other awards because of the type of films he had tended to make. When the film was over, Jackson stood up to turn the TV off._

"_Well, that's it for me tonight. I'm an old man, gotta get my sleep. Leroy, where do you want me to put Tony; the guest room, or your room?" _

_Tony was so shocked, he barely heard Gibbs answer, "My room." And just like that, Jackson became the third person to know about them._

"_Well, I'll leave you to settle him in then. Catch the lights for me, won't you. Night boys. I'll have breakfast ready at eight. Sleep well." That said, he stretched and took himself up the stairs, leaving them alone in the living room._

_Tony was staring at Gibbs, mouth hanging open. "Better shut your trap, DiNozzo, or you're gonna catch a fly," he told him with a smirk._

"_You could have warned me," Tony managed to stutter out._

"_Where's the fun in that?" Gibbs chuckled. "You should have known I wasn't going to hide anything from my dad. This is family, and you're a part of that now."_

"_What if he'd gotten mad, or been disgusted?" Tony objected, still reeling over how casually their relationship had just been revealed, and accepted._

"_Didn't think that was likely to happen. He's never been a bigot, doubted if it was something he'd picked up as he got older. And if he had objected, then it would have been his problem, not ours. I'm not ashamed of our relationship, even if I don't go around broadcasting it at work, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna slink around behind my father's back, like some hormone driven teenager. Besides, when he asked that question, I knew it was going to be okay."_

"_How did he know?" Tony was confused. He thought he'd been so careful to act like a friend and co-worker. _

"_Don't know. You can ask him in the morning," was Gibbs' answer. "Come on. Let's go out to the car and get the bags, and then hit the sheets. He'll have a million projects he wants help with tomorrow, so we might as well get some rest while we can."_

_Tony followed him out, and then helped him shut down the house for the night. As they slide into the bed, Gibbs reached out and pulled Tony close to him. It felt weird, like when you made out in your bedroom while your parents were in the next room, but before he could really examine the feeling too closely, he fell fast asleep._

* * *

Gibbs was finishing up yet another uneventful visit with Tony.

"I love you," he told him once again, "and I'd sure appreciate it if you'd wake up soon."

* * *

"_Wake up, Tony. Come on, out of bed," Gibbs had barked at him, the next morning. "Breakfast is almost done."_

"_Don't want to," Tony had objected, pulling the sheets up over his head. What had started out as a nerve-racking day had ended in one of the best nights he'd ever experienced. Gibbs had made it clear he loved him, and intended to keep right on doing that, and Tony had slept more peacefully than he could ever remember._

That was perhaps his favorite memory. It was one he kept playing over and over in his head. They'd had a wonderful time that weekend. Jackson had treated him just like a son, and when they'd left, he'd promised to come to D.C. when he got a chance, for a visit. It was what being with family should always have felt like - safe, accepted, and loved. He was going to truly miss it.


	10. Chapter 10

"**No Bravery"**

**Chapter Ten**

Gibbs' cell jingled in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced down. "McGee" was displayed on the screen. Sighing, he flipped the phone open and grunted, "Yeah?" into it.

"Boss, we got something," McGee all but screamed into the phone, he was so excited. "Get this, turns out Dietrich's half brother works at the Yard. His name's Jamie Stohl, and he works down in the mechanical room. I don't know why it didn't show up on his profile. Maybe because they weren't close. Dietrich was raised by his father, and Stohl is his mom's son from her second marriage, but they did spend a lot of summers together when they were growing up. The minute we found out, Ziva and I went down to talk with Stohl. He hasn't seen or talked to Dietrich in a couple of years, but I'm sure that's what Dietrich was doing here. I can feel it in my gut."

Gibbs was glad he was on the phone, and not across the room from McGee, when he grinned over the 'feel it in my gut' line. He could just imagine how Tony would have pounced on McGee for saying that. It would have become a running gag for an entire week, with Tony assuring McGee that what he was really feeling were the two donuts he'd eaten that morning. It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud.

He was also just as pleased over the news as McGee, even though he was considerably less exuberant. It meant they were one step closer to catching the bastard. "Put a tail on Stohl. If Dietrich tried to get in touch with him once, he'll try again. And McGee, are you tracing his phones, too?"

"Already on it, Boss. I even have a trace set up on his email account. I didn't need a warrant; Stohl's cooperating completely. He was appalled when he heard what had happened. Seems he knows Tony, and really likes him. Why is it everyone at the Yard knows Tony, Boss?" he asked, getting sidetracked by his own curiosity.

"Cause he's DiNozzo," Gibbs answered, shaking his head. "Keep me in the loop, McGee," he said, right before he rang off. He had to snort. From day one, Tony had made a point of meeting as many people as possible at NCIS. By the end of his first year, he couldn't go anywhere in the building without people greeting him by name.

"More bees with honey, Boss," Tony had told Gibbs once, when a window cleaner had called out a hello. "You never know when you're going to need someone's help," he'd pointed out. Gibbs had just rolled his eyes, but there had been times over the years, when Tony had milked those connections to speed up an investigation. It was just classic DiNozzo - never close a door if you can help it. Kate used to accuse him of being nosy, always looking for something to hold over other people's heads. Gibbs knew it was more than that. Tony didn't do it just for selfish reasons. He genuinely liked people, and enjoyed getting to know a little about their lives. That was what made him such a good investigator. Gibbs suspected that had started out when he was young and miserable. A way to live vicariously through others, if only for a brief moment, and it had just become a habit, as Tony got older.

Gibbs looked at his watch, 1654. It was almost time to go in and see Tony again. He'd been starting to sink before the phone call, but McGee's news had given him a second wind. The case was starting to look up, now if only Tony would get better.

* * *

_Tony sat in the back of the ambulance, an oxygen mask held up to his face, and looked out the open door. He could see Gibbs and Maddie, as they were being fussed over by the paramedics. Maddie had her arms wrapped around Gibbs' waist, as if she never intended to let go, and his boss was saying something to the female paramedic, while she tried to fit a blood pressure cuff around his arm. 'Probably telling her to buzz off,' he thought with amusement. Recognizing an immovable wall when she met it, the woman gave up on him, and began to focus her attention on Maddie. She gently guided the girl's arms off of Gibbs, then carefully steered her towards another ambulance. Left alone for a moment, Gibbs looked up, scanning the area, until his eyes locked with Tony's. Inclining his head ever so slightly, he began to head Tony's way. The blanket the paramedics had draped around him a few minutes ago fluttered to the ground as the older man picked up speed._

"_Hey," Tony greeted him, pulling the mask away from his mouth when Gibbs leaned in between the ambulance doors. That sounded stupid, even to his own ears, but he wasn't sure what else to say. It wasn't like he was going to tell Gibbs he'd wanted to die too, when he couldn't get him breathing again. Or that he hadn't wanted to leave him to go over and help Maddie, and yet, that was all he could seem to think about. _

"_You okay?" Gibbs asked, taking in Tony's wet and bedraggled appearance._

"_Never better," Tony answered, trying for an air of nonchalance, which was difficult since his teeth were chattering and his hands shaking._

"_They gonna make you take a ride to the hospital?" Gibbs asked._

_Tony nodded. "Yeah, just to get some shot though, to help prevent an infection from bacteria. Probie opened his big mouth and told them about the plague." _

"_Good for him. Gotta take Maddie home after they check her over. My place later?" He smiled when Tony nodded back. "And Tony? Thank you," he said, just before he turned to walk back over to where the paramedics had the girl._

That had been the moment Tony could no longer deny to himself that he loved his boss. Up until then, he'd assigned his feelings all sorts of other labels – respect, admiration, infatuation, desire – but he'd always been careful to stay away from the 'L' word. It was kind of hard to do, however, when he'd just realized he didn't want to go on living without Gibbs. Not that he'd shared that with Gibbs. After all, they'd only been officially 'seeing' each other for a few weeks, even though the build-up had gone on for several years previous. No, telling him had taken a lot longer, and had happened completely by mistake.

_Gibbs' hand snaked out and wrapped around the back of Tony's neck, pulling him in close. Totally ignoring the small yelp of surprise, his mouth covered Tony's, in a hungry and demanding kiss. His other hand pressed against the back of Tony's head, holding him captive, while Gibbs continued to devour him. When Gibbs finally pulled his face far enough away so he could look at his lover, he groaned, "Christ, I missed you."_

"_Missed you too, Boss," Tony panted. "Wasn't sure you were ever going to get me off that damned boat."_

"_Ship," Gibbs corrected, as his mouth closed back over Tony's lips._

_They never made it to the bedroom; it was all they could do to get from the front door to the couch in the living room. Tony didn't know which one of them was more desperate, as clothes were yanked off and carelessly discarded along the way. By the time Gibbs sank into him with an almost pained moan, they'd both explored every inch of the other's body, drinking it in like men finding water after being stranded in a desert. They kissed and touched, as Gibbs thrust slowly and deeply into Tony's welcoming heat, both trying hard to stave off the inevitable. Both wanting the moment to last. In the end, they came almost simultaneously. So spent, Tony was barely aware of Gibbs collapsing on top of him._

_When Gibbs began nuzzling at his throat, chills raced up and down Tony's spine. "God, I love you," he murmured. Realizing what he'd just said, he held his breath. They'd never exchanged the traditional kinds of endearments. Gibbs calling him Hotshot was as close as they'd ever gotten. And he couldn't even imagine a time they would discuss their feelings for one another out loud; he'd always just assumed that went against some unspoken rule of the older man's. _

_So he wasn't prepared for when Gibbs curled his hand around his, and said quietly, "Me too, Tony."_

_They lay like that for a long time, hands entwined. Finally, Gibbs squeezed his hand and said, "Since all your crap is in the basement anyway, maybe you should just stay here."_

_Not trusting himself to say much, Tony managed a soft, "I'd like that," and squeezed back._

* * *

Gibbs was sitting in the chair he'd drawn up next to the bed. His left arm was threaded through the safety rails, his hand interlocked with Tony's limp one. He was talking about needing to finish the half completed renovation of the spare bedroom into a study. It was something they'd begun not long after Tony had moved in, yet hadn't gotten around to finishing, first because of the demands of the job, and later because of the general malaise that had infected their home. Suddenly, he stopped mid-sentence. Tony's fingers had just tightened around his!

"Tony?" he rasped, staring at his face.

Tony's expression didn't seem to change, although the pressure on his hand had not let up.

"Tony, can you hear me?" he tried again.

Still no answer.

Gibbs leaned closer to the bed, being careful not to dislodge the hand that was grasping Tony's. Reaching his other one up, he corded his fingers through Tony's hair, and spoke again. "Tony, time to wake up. Can you do that?" He felt Tony's fingers press against his once more, and then they relaxed, and Tony's hand went limp again.

It wasn't the outcome he'd wanted, but he refused to be discouraged. There was no way that had been his imagination. Tony had responded to his voice, he was sure of it.

"Gonna be stubborn, DiNozzo? Figures. S'okay, I can wait," he told his sleeping partner, settling back in the chair a bit. He'd meant what he just said. He could wait, especially now.

Gibbs talked a little more to Tony, about nothing in particular, until it was almost time for the visit to be over. Standing up, he leaned over the bed and pressed a kiss to Tony's forehead. Then, in a whispered voice, he said, "Be back in an hour. Maybe you'll be ready to wake up then. Love you, Tony. Might not say it much, but don't ever forget that."

When he got back into the waiting room, he was feeling like a new man. He'd told the nurse about the hand squeeze, and she'd seemed pleased by the development, so when he saw Ducky and Abby sitting in chairs, he gave them one of his rare, heartfelt grins.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Gibbs?" Abby smiled, as she stood up to give him a hug.

"Jethro," Ducky said, smiling also. "Good news?"

Gibbs let Abby envelop him, and then said, "He squeezed my hand."

"That is most excellent news," Ducky enthused, as Abby squealed.

"I knew he was going to be fine," Abby gushed, as she beamed up at Gibbs. "So, when can I go see him again?"

Before Gibbs could answer that, Ducky chimed in, "I suspect you are going to have to wait, Abigail. I highly doubt Jethro is going to give up a visit at the moment. I can see my plans to have him take a nap evaporating into the air." He didn't seem truly upset by that, however. "I do hope I can persuade you to eat something, though. It may well be another long night for you."

Gibbs nodded at his friend. For the first time in weeks he discovered he was actually hungry. "Food would be good."

"Excellent. I just happen to have brought some. Abigail, release the poor man, so he can eat," Ducky commanded.

Once again the table was set, and before he knew it, Gibbs was digging into a huge slice of lasagna. Abby babbled with abandon, while she absentmindedly stole slices of carrots from the pile of sliced carrots and celery Ducky had placed next to his plate. Gibbs was too pleased with the new development to object.

"Where did you get this?" he asked Ducky, as he ate the food.

"I stopped at the cafeteria here, on my way up. Did you even know it existed, Jethro?" he asked sternly.

"Yeah, Ducks, I knew it was there. Been kind of preoccupied," he answered pointedly.

"I'm aware of that, which is why I stopped," Ducky said, completely unfazed by Gibbs' tone. "But now that things are looking up, I expect you to take a little time to look after yourself, as well. It certainly won't do for you to collapse, just as he wakes up."

"I hear you," Gibbs grunted.

"Ah yes, but are you listening? That's the real question," Ducky retorted, although he grinned as he spoke, keeping the general mood in the room light.

When Gibbs had finished eating, Ducky went over to where he'd laid his coat, and picked up a large paper shopping bag.

"More food?" Gibbs groaned.

Ducky laughed. "No, aids for you next visit with Tony," he informed him, as he brought the bag over to where Gibbs was sitting, and placed it in front of him.

Curious, Gibbs peaked into the bag. It was three quarters full with envelopes of all sizes and colors. "What are these?" he inquired, puzzled.

"Get well cards," the ME told him. "They have been appearing on Tony's desk all day long. When they threatened to start spilling onto the floor, Ziva began to bag them up. I stopped by the bullpen on my way over to retrieve them; since I thought you might read a few of them to Tony tonight. I know they probably don't matter to you, but I think they might mean a great deal to Anthony."

Gibbs was a bit overwhelmed by the number of well wishers represented by the collection. He knew Tony was popular, but this was physical evidence of the esteem his coworkers had for him. "Yeah, they will," he agreed. "Thanks."

"No trouble at all," Ducky said. "So, will we be seeing Ziva and Timothy at some point this evening?" he asked.

"Doubtful," Gibbs told him. "Talked to them an hour or so ago. They're planning on running the surveillance at Dietrich's half brother's house tonight, hoping he'll show up there."

"With any luck he will. Catching that miscreant would be the perfect capper to the day," Ducky said vehemently.

"Agreed," Gibbs grunted.

When the visiting hour came round again, Gibbs grabbed the bag with the cards, and took it in with him. After smoothing Tony's hair, and telling him hello, Gibbs pulled up the chair once more, and took out a stack of cards from the bag. He opened the top one and squinted at it, wishing he had his reading glasses with him, even though they hurt his pride.

"Got some get well cards here, Tony. Thought I'd read you a few," he told Tony's sleeping body.

Looking at the signature on the card he'd just opened, he said, "This one's from Jimmy Palmer, although he signed it The Autopsy Gremlin." He chuckled, envisioning the cheeky smile Palmer must have worn when he wrote that, and then proceeded to read Tony what the card said.

Opening another, he grunted when he saw who it was from. "This one's from Ron Davis, over at the Pentagon. Don't think I've seen him since we worked that joint mission with he and his team at the beginning of the year, just figured he was avoiding me, considering what happened. Anyway, he says he hopes you're feeling better soon, and that you still owe him a beer. What's that about? I'd think he owed you one."

Receiving no answer, he slid the card back into its sheath. And dug out another, which he proceeded to open.

* * *

_Tony stood next to the back door of a warehouse down on the docks, having just concluded a whispered conversation with Ron Davis, a fellow NCIS agent. Despite his outward demeanor, Tony was nervous. This wasn't the way he liked to start a mission. He was about to lead Davis and a group of other agents into the building, and he had no idea what was happening with Gibbs, who was heading up another unit. That certainly hadn't been his idea. He hadn't wanted to split up, wasn't comfortable with anyone but him watching Gibbs' back, but his boss had insisted._

"_We need to divide up, Tony. One team to the front and one to the back," Gibbs had said in the short whispered strategy meeting they'd had when they realized the gun runners were still holed up in the building. "I want one of us heading up each team. Davis' people are good, but we know Alexi and his crew better. I'm gonna take Ziva, Peters, and Williams, and you take McGee, Davis and Andrews. You go around to the back, and we'll go in the front._ _Go ahead and_ g_ive me five minutes to get into position, then we'll enter simultaneously at 2110. I'll give you the command over the com." _

_There hadn't been any point in arguing, even though something inside him had been screaming, "Wrong!" What was he going to say? Intellectually he knew Gibbs' plan was sound, although that didn't seem to help with the unease he was feeling. _

_Needing to distract himself, he checked his gun one more time, then reached up and readjusted his ear bud. Gibbs should be giving the signal any time now. Suddenly, as if reading Tony's thoughts, Gibbs' voice crackled in his ear. "Team A in position."_

"_Team B set," Tony responded into his com._

"_On the count of five," Gibbs said _

_Tony silently signaled to his group, to let them know they were ready. As Gibbs started the countdown, he moved in front of the heavy metal door. "Five, four," the rest of the team moved into place behind Tony. "Three, two, one, GO!" _

_Tony reached out, and yanked the door open, surging forward, gun drawn, McGee, Davis and his men following as he ran into the building._

_Somewhere in front of him, he could hear Gibbs yell, "NCIS! Hands up!" Then, before he even had a chance to properly acclimate himself to the scene, shots began to ring out from multiple directions. Tony instinctively crouched to the ground, as he scanned the cavernous warehouse, trying to place exactly where Gibbs and his team were in relationship to the bad guys. He'd just located Gibbs, when he saw Alexi creeping along the side of a stack of wooden shipping crates, a semi automatic in his hands, poised to shoot. Before he could even react, the Russian pulled the trigger. _

_Tony didn't think, he just shot, and Alexi fell to the ground. He then looked over in the direction the man had been firing, and saw Gibbs. He was falling backwards, and as Tony watched, his back hit a large support beam behind him. Blood was beginning to seep from his shoulder and the left side of his head. As Tony stared in horror, Gibbs' gun hand lowered, and he began to slide down the pole towards the floor._

"_Gibbs!" The scream ripped from Tony's throat._

* * *

Gibbs was putting another card back into its envelope, when he heard one of the machines to his right make a strange beeping sound he'd not heard before. He stood up to look at it. The instrument measuring Tony's pulse showed that it had jumped up to 160 beats per minute. Then, before he'd worked out what he should do, Tony sat bolt upright in the bed, his arms flailing. And, as tubing from the ventilator and IV lines went flying, and alarms started to blare, Tony opened his eyes and stared straight at Gibbs.


	11. Chapter 11

"**No Bravery"**

**Chapter Eleven**

Before Gibbs had any time to react, the room was suddenly swarming with medical personnel. He had just enough time to see a nurse pull the tubing Tony was clutching out of his hand, before his view was blocked. As the squadron of nurses and the on-call doctors surrounded Tony's bed, Gibbs found himself shunted to the corner of the room.

"We need you to relax…..Mr. DiNozzo……Just lie down……You're fine…..Everything's going to be okay….." The assurances to Tony filled the air, as Gibbs watched them try to ease Tony back on the bed.

"He's extubated himself, Doctor," Gibbs heard one of the nurses declare. "Do you want to sedate and reintubate?"

"Not yet, let's see how he responds to a mask," the doctor answered. "Easy now, I need you to calm down," he told Tony, in a calm pacifying voice. Gibbs wished he could see what was going on, but his view was blocked.

"Gibbs!" he heard a raw and hoarse voice call out, followed by loud wheezing, and he knew it had to be Tony.

"Shhh….you're fine," the doctor soothed, as he worked to restrain Tony.

"No! Jethro," Tony croaked again, panic coloring his words.

That was it for Gibbs. Tony was calling for him, and he was going to answer. "I'm here, Tony," he said, as he shouldered his way closer to the bed.

Tony's head swung around to where he was standing, and everyone else stared at him, as if realizing for the first time that he was there. A nurse started to move him back, but the doctor stopped her. "Let him stay," he told the nurse, when he saw that Tony's struggling had lessened. Looking over at Gibbs, he instructed, "I need him to relax. We have to get an oxygen mask back on him fast, since he's pulled the endotracheal tubing out. He's not ready to breathe completely on his own. Can you talk to him?"

Finally, something he could actually do to help. "Tony, listen to me," Gibbs said, as he pushed in a little nearer and reached out to grab Tony by his biceps. Tony's eyes were glassy and wild, and he was gasping for air. "Tony, it's me, Gibbs," he tried again. "Can you hear me?" Gibbs let go of Tony's left arm and reached up to grasp Tony's chin. "Tony, listen to me. It's Jethro and you're in the hospital. You got that?" he asked, giving a little shake with his hand.

"Jethro?" Tony choked out, his eyes focusing somewhat.

"Yeah, Tony, it's me. You're in a hospital. You need to lie back and let the doctors help you. Do you understand?" Gibbs was trying to speak slowly and clearly.

"You're okay?" Tony said, looking confused as he grabbed Gibbs' hand with his free arm and held on tight.

"I'm fine, Tony," Gibbs tried to assure him.

"No, no," Tony shook his head.

"Tony, it's me, Gibbs. I'm just fine. Do you understand? Nothing wrong with me. It's you that got hurt."

Tony's eyes cleared a little more. "That's it. You following me now?" he asked. When Tony nodded, he continued, "You're in a hospital. The doctors and nurses are trying to help you. Now lie back and let them do their jobs, okay?"

The energy seemed to drain out of Tony, as he nodded again, and slumped back against the mattress. The minute his head hit the bed, the medical staff swooped back in. A face mask was placed over his mouth and nose, and the doctor administered some kind of hypo in his arm. All the while they were doing that, Tony hung on to Gibbs. Gibbs could see blood starting to seep through the bandages on Tony's shoulder, and he knew that meant the stitches had probably been ripped open in the struggle.

"Doing great, Tony," he said encouragingly, while the nurses began to reattach the electrodes that monitored Tony's heart. As he watched, the ECG machine sprang back to life, and he could see Tony's heart rate begin to even out. When he looked back down, Tony's eyes were beginning to slowly close, and the iron grip he had locked around Gibbs' hand began to weaken. "That's good," Gibbs murmured.

When Tony's hand finally uncurled completely and fell back down on the bed, the doctor said, "We need to get these IVs hooked back up, and then we're going to need to check on the temporary pacemaker."

"What about the bleeding?" Gibbs asked the man.

"That's no big deal. We'll probably have to do some re-suturing, but I'm betting the wound itself will be fine. The pacemaker's a bigger issue. We don't want it to have come dislodged."

"And if it did?" Gibbs asked, needing to know as much as he could.

"Then we'll have to either take it out, or place it back where it needs to be," he was told.

"Is that dangerous?" Gibbs demanded.

"Not as dangerous as letting it stay where it doesn't belong, but I'd rather not have to take him back into surgery so soon. I won't know what's up until I can get some x-rays. Look, Mr. ….." The doctor paused there, waiting to be supplied with a name.

"Gibbs. Jethro Gibbs," he grunted.

"Mr. Gibbs," the man repeated. "I just gave him a sedative that's going to keep him out of it for at least three hours. Are you going to be in the waiting room?" When Gibbs nodded, he continued. "Let us assess the situation, run some tests, and I'll come out and give you an update. How does that sound?"

"Fine. He's gonna wake up again, though, right?" Gibbs asked, still trying to wrap his head around everything that had just happened.

"Oh, yeah," the doctor laughed. "I think it's safe to say he's out of the coma."

Gibbs knew when he'd been dismissed, and he slowly took himself back to the waiting room. All of the second wind he'd enjoyed earlier had deserted him, leaving his body tired and sore. He was exhausted, and he felt as though he were on some kind of emotional roller coaster. One minute he was at the bottom, then just when he began to dig himself out of the dumps and rise towards the top, something happened that made him sink even lower. Some of that must have shown on his face when he entered the room, because both Abby and Ducky jumped to their feet.

"Jethro!" Ducky exclaimed when he saw him. "Has something happened?"

"He woke up," Gibbs told him wearily.

"Well, that's excellent news. Why so dower?" Ducky asked, confused by Gibbs' lack of enthusiasm.

Gibbs then proceeded to tell them everything that had happened in the ICU. Abby didn't even wait for him to finish before she pulled him into a hug, and when he was done, Ducky clapped him on the back, and said, "Well, none of that is necessarily bad news, although I imagine it was terrifying for you."

Gibbs just snorted in response. Terrifying was actually a fairly mild way of describing what the scene had been like.

"I'm sure Anthony was very disoriented when he woke up. That's really to be expected, Jethro. Waking up after surgery is always a bit disconcerting, and since his last waking memories would have been centered around a traumatic event, one really shouldn't be surprised by what happened. I think the fact that the doctor opted to try him on an oxygen mask, rather than reintubating him is very promising. I know that will be more comfortable for Tony. It will also cut down on the level of restraints they need to employ."

"Restraints?!?" Gibbs growled. "What in the hell are you talking about, Ducky?"

"Easy, Jethro. They aren't going to hurt him, but they will undoubtedly feel the need to secure his hands. They daren't take the chance he wake up so violently again. He can't keep pulling his IVs out, or disconnecting himself from the monitors. And extubating himself was very dangerous. There was a chance he wouldn't have been able to breathe on his own, and he could have become hypoxic," Ducky tried to explain.

"Arm restraints are going to upset him," Gibbs argued.

"Not as much as suffocating would," Ducky pointing out. "Once he's more lucid they will be able to take them off."

"What about this pacemaker thing?" Gibbs asked.

"We'll have to see about that. It's a common practice to insert a temporary pacemaker after someone's heart has stopped, in case they need to help monitor and regulate the rhythm. If it becomes displaced, there is always the risk of perforation or overstimulation."

"Perforation? Of his heart?" Gibbs demanded.

"Yes, but that's highly unlikely. Actually, if he dislodged the connector wires, it's a wonder he didn't shock himself, since electricity passes directly through them. Don't worry, Jethro. These doctors are going to be well aware of all the potential dangers, and they'll make their decisions based on what is best for Tony. We're just going to have to be patient," Ducky added.

Electric shocks, arm restraints, and suffocation, not the terms he wanted to hear when they were talking about what could happen when you were in an ICU unit, where they were theoretically trying to make you better. And how was he supposed to be patient? He just grunted in response to the ME.

"Everything's going to be alright," Abby assured him. "Tony's tough."

Gibbs squeezed her in silent thanks, and then said, "Yeah, he is."

"I think, perhaps, you might profit from sitting down for awhile, Jethro," Ducky suggested, noting how pale Gibbs was looking. "It will take them a bit of time to stabilize Tony and decide what needs doing."

Every minute that passed seemed like hours to Gibbs as the three of them sat in that room, waiting for the doctor to appear. The usual visiting time came and went, with no one coming for him, and no new update on Tony's condition. Gibbs' back and shoulders ached from the tension, and his bad knee throbbed. He couldn't remember when he'd felt as tired, and yet he couldn't imagine being able to fall asleep. His mind kept racing, playing back the scene in Tony's room, and interspersing memories from their past. What had caused Tony to be so panicked when he'd awakened, and why had he asked him if he was okay? Nothing seemed to make any sense to Gibbs, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't sort it out. As if intuiting his need to reflect, neither Abby nor Ducky said much, although they sat beside him, offering support simply through their physical presence, and he was surprised by how much that meant to him. Finally, almost two hours later, the door between the ICU and the waiting room opened, and the doctor stepped through.

Gibbs shot to his feet, and met him before he'd even gotten half way across the room. "Mr. Gibbs," the doctor greeted him.

"How's Tony?" Gibbs asked, wanting to get right to the point and not waste any time on pleasantries. He could feel Ducky and Abby joining them, although he didn't let his gaze stray away from the doctor's face.

"Doing fairly well, I think," the man responded. "Would you mind if we went and sat down, and then I'll bring you up to speed?"

Gibbs led the way over to the corner of the room that he and the rest of his team had commandeered, and sat down, looking over at the doctor impatiently. "So?" he asked.

"Well, Mr. DiNozzo is resting comfortably," the doctor began. "We have him on an oxygen mask, and he seems to be handling that just fine, so I'm hoping reintubation will not be necessary. I was able to remove the pacemaker, which was very good news."

"You took him to surgery?" Gibbs cut in, appalled that he hadn't been notified.

"No, it wasn't necessary. I got it out without any complications. I made the decision not to insert a new one, which is a more intrusive procedure. We'll see what the cardiologist says tomorrow, but for now we will just monitor his heart rhythms to make sure he's doing all right. I did have to do a fair amount of re-suturing on his shoulder, but the x-rays looked good, and we don't think he did any new damage to any of the muscles or nerves in the area. So, all things considered, he's doing remarkably well."

"When can I see him?" Gibbs demanded.

"Whenever you like," the doctor told him. "Actually, I was going to ask if you minded staying in there with him until he's awake again. For whatever reason, you seem to have a calming effect on him, and we certainly don't want a repeat of what happened before."

"Now," Gibbs said immediately. "I want to see him now."

"Very good," the doctor agreed. "I'll take you back to him."

"Jethro," Ducky interrupted, as they stood to go in. "Abigail and I will go ahead and leave for the night. I'm sure you're going to be in there for quite some time. I will be back in the morning. Please remember what we spoke about earlier, and try and get some rest yourself."

"Will do," Gibbs grunted. "And thanks," he said, aiming it at both of them.

Abby stood and gave him one last hug. "Tell Tony we're thinking about him," she instructed, and then she kissed him on the cheek and gave him a little push in the doctor's direction. "Now, go on. Go be with our boy."

* * *

Not surprisingly, Tony was asleep when Gibbs got back to his room. When he saw the wrist restraints on his arms, Gibbs gave a silent thanks to Ducky for preparing him for that, otherwise he knew he would have exploded, which was something Tony didn't need right now.

"I've told the nurses that you'll be staying in here for awhile, to help make sure he doesn't become agitated again, when he wakes up. If you need anything, feel free to ask them," the doctor told him. "I'll be back later to see how he's doing." Gibbs watched the man leave, then walked over to the bed.

He looked down at Tony. He didn't look any different than he had when he'd been in the coma. All of the wires and IVs had been reattached, and he still had a breathing mask over his face. But things were different, he knew. Tony no longer had a tube running down his throat and would be able to speak when he woke up. Awake, that was the biggest change of all, he thought. This time Tony was asleep, not comatose. He went to retrieve the chair that had been placed in a corner of the room, and dragged it back over to the bed. When he sat down, he automatically slid his hand into Tony's, which was resting next to the bed rail.

"You sure as hell got everyone's attention, DiNozzo," he told Tony's supine body. "Trust you to make waking up a theatrical event." He was attempting to make light of things, trying to forget how frightening it had been when Tony had sat there, his arms flying around, gasping for air like a fish out of water. "Jesus Christ, you scared me, Tony," he grunted out loud.

He heard a muffled sound at the same time he felt Tony's fingers tighten around his. When his eyes shot up to Tony's face, he saw that his lover's eyes were open, and he was trying to talk. Before Gibbs could say anything, Tony tried to reach up with his other hand, and his eyes widened in consternation, when the restraint stopped his arm from moving more than a few inches. He immediately started yanking on his arms.

"Stop it," Gibbs barked, as he sprang to his feet. "Everything's okay, Tony. They're just arm restraints. Calm down." Tony's face was the very picture of frustration, and he could hear the heart monitor begin to speed up. "They had to put them on. You pulled out all your lines and the breathing tube earlier." Tony looked at him, and although he didn't look happy, he did stop struggling. He tried to say something again, but Gibbs couldn't understand what it was.

"I'm not following you. The mask is making it too hard to tell what you're saying. Just rest, you aren't even supposed to be awake yet. 'Course, when did you ever do what was expected?" He smiled when he added the last, trying to put Tony at ease. Tony seemed to respond to that and the creases between his brows disappeared, as he visibly began to relax. "That's good," Gibbs encouraged. "You're just gonna have to lie there and listen to me talk for a change." Tony rolled his eyes at that, and Gibbs felt as if he'd won the lottery, because he knew, under the mask, Tony had to be smiling.

He reached over, and ran a hand along the side of Tony's face, and he smiled too, when Tony pressed against it. "Been talking to you a lot the last twenty-four hours. Who know, maybe it'll become a habit. Think I need to do a little more of it, anyway." As if navigated by their own free will, his fingers had wandered up into Tony's hair, and were softly running through the thick, soft strands in a slow, reassuring manner. "Nicer talking to you when I can see your eyes. Feeling better now?" he asked.

Tony nodded, as he kept his eyes locked on Gibbs. "Just do everything they tell you, and we'll have you out of here in no time. S'okay?" Tony rattled his hands, looked down at them and then back up at Gibbs. "Yeah, I'll talk to them about those. You just need to prove to them you're not gonna do anything drastic again. That's why I'm here. They think I have a pacifying influence on you." Once again Tony rewarded him, when he began to laugh behind the mask. Unfortunately, the laughter devolved into coughing, and before Tony was able to control it, alarms went off on the ventilator, and a nurse appeared.

"What happened?" she asked as she swept into the room.

"He was laughing, and then it turned into a cough," Gibbs explained.

"His throat is raw and dry, so it isn't really a surprise. Do you think a few ice chips would help?" she asked Tony, who nodded his head eagerly.

"Hang on," she instructed, as she rearranged his pillows and then elevated the head of his bed a bit. That seemed to help, and the coughing began to subside. "Better?" she asked Tony. When he nodded, she patted his good shoulder and said, "Good." Then, taking out a cell phone, she pressed a number and spoke. "This is Karen. I'm in room A. Could you bring in a cup of ice?......Thanks." After she disconnected, she looked back over at Tony. "Ice is on its way. Let's get this machine reset, shall we," she said, as she pressed a series of buttons on the front panel.

"What about the restraints?" Gibbs asked, watching her as she worked.

"They're for his own safety," she pointed out.

"Yes, but now I'm in here with him. Are they really necessary? They upset him," he pointed out.

She glanced over at him, and chewed on the side of her mouth, as she thought about what he'd said. "I guess we can try taking them off. He does seem lucid."

At that moment another nurse appeared with a styrofoam cup, which she handed to the other woman. Once she had the ice, she addressed Tony again. "I'm going to slide the oxygen mask off for just a few seconds, and give you a few of these chips. Let them melt in your mouth; don't try to immediately swallow them. Ready?"

When Tony nodded enthusiastically, she pulled the mask down off his face, and held the cup up to his lips. "Okay, here we go," she said, as she tipped the cup towards him.

When the ice slid into his mouth, he gave an audible sigh of relief. "Feel good?" Gibbs asked. Tony smiled in response, and made a faint groan of happiness as the ice began to melt and trickle down his throat.

"More?" he croaked when all the ice was gone.

"Just a little," she said, smiling at him. "I know your throat and mouth must be dry, even though the oxygen you're receiving has moisture in it."

When that ice was all gone, Tony wiggled his hands, looked over at her, and tried to give her his best little boy smile. "Please," he beseeched.

"Oh, all right. You seem to be perfectly coherent now. Oxygen mask back on first though." As she unbuckled the restraint, she looked at him and teased, "Now, you have to promise me you won't try to make a break for it."

Tony shook his head.

Laughing, she said, "I hope that no is to making a break for it, and not a refusal to promise." The minute his hand was free, he held up his hand and made the Boy Scout pledge sign. "Okay, scout's honor, huh," she laughed, as she moved to the other hand. "I'll remember that. Make sure you do, too. Seriously though, you do need to be careful. We don't want any of these monitors to get displaced again, and we certainly don't want the IVs pulled out."

This time Tony crossed his heart with his hand.

"Oh, you're a charmer, aren't you? Bet you're used to getting your way," she laughed.

"You have no idea," Gibbs said scowling, although he was inordinately pleased by how well Tony seemed to be doing. "Can you leave the ice here?" he asked, "In case he has another coughing fit."

"Yes, I will. If it happens again though, you need to make sure you call us. And remember, I'm trusting you to keep an eye on things," she reminded him, with just a hint of steel creeping back into her tone.

"Yes, M'am," he said smartly, giving her a little salute. She snorted, and then turned to leave.

When he turned back around, he immediately enclosed Tony's hand with his own. "There, you're a free man," he told him.

Tony shook his head, disagreeing with Gibbs. Then, before Gibbs could stop him, his other arm shot up and tilted the mask off his face. "I'm taken," he told Gibbs with a soft smile.

"You bet your ass you are," Gibbs smiled back. "Don't you forget that. Now, put the mask back on, DiNozzo. Don't want you making a liar out of me." He reached back up to help, but before he repositioned it over Tony's face, he couldn't resist running his index finger lightly across Tony's lips. When Tony kissed the pad of his finger, he felt a little shiver run down his spine. "Love you," he said ever so softly.

Just before the mask slid down, Tony whispered, "Love you, too."


	12. Chapter 12

"**No Bravery"**

**Chapter Twelve**

After he slid the oxygen mask back in place, Gibbs stood looking down at Tony, who was gazing up at him. He knew he had to say something, anything, to keep Tony entertained, but discovered he had no clue where to begin. It didn't seem right that it had been so much easier talking to him when he was in a coma; surely it should be the other way around. Yet there he stood, tongue tied and embarrassingly unsure of how to proceed. There were things he wanted to tell Tony, things he desperately needed to share, but now wasn't the time. Not when Tony was stretched out on a hospital bed in the ICU ward. They would keep.

Tony wasn't helping much. He seemed content to lie there and listen as Gibbs stumbled his way through what he hoped constituted casual conversation, but was really just a recounting of Ziva's and McGee's progress in locating Dietrich. Gibbs was given a reprieve though, before he even got to the stakeout, when Tony fell back asleep. Realizing he was once again essentially talking to himself, Gibbs fell silent and sat heavily back down on the chair.

"Go ahead and sleep, Tony," he whispered quietly, as he reached through the bed railing and rested a hand on Tony's belly. The rise and fall of his diaphragm was oddly soothing, and the warmth of Tony's skin comforted him. Tony was alive and breathing, so all was going to be right with the world.

"I'll still be here when you wake up." That was something he should have said when Tony had been awake. Hell, he ought to have expanded on it, promised he would never be far away, but things like that had always been hard for him to say. He just counted on the fact that those who were close to him would somehow magically know he felt that way. But he wasn't really fooling himself. Part of him had always been aware that it didn't really work that way - not always - not ever really. The last few months were the concrete proof of that.

Gibbs rested his forehead against the rail. As he thought back over the long weeks of silence, he let his eyes sink closed. He knew when it had all begun. It was the week of the kids; the week they had spent watching the techs dig in a corn field, uncovering one shallow grave after another, all containing the rotted bodies of little girls, none of whom were older than twelve. There had been nine in all. Each child had been abducted from a school yard, and all of them had fathers who were serving in the Navy. He and the team didn't sleep for two days, and on the third night, he'd finally sent them away for some rest. They were all dead on their feet, incapable of going any longer without a break. When he and Tony had gotten home, he'd gone to the basement, telling Tony he needed to be alone. He hadn't intended to hurt him, if anything, he'd been trying to spare him. He'd watched Tony all that day, had seen the bruised expression and the pain behind his eyes. The last thing he'd wanted was to cause more. That's why he'd shut himself away, so Tony wouldn't have to deal with his anguish, too. That was why he'd retreated to his own space and had drunk himself into a stupor, so that he could finally close his eyes and not see their faces.

It had worked, for the night. But in the morning they'd found themselves back in that field examining more graves, looking for the evidence that would shatter yet another family's hope. He'd remained stoic as he talked to the mothers and fathers, delivering the news no parent wanted to hear. He'd been brave for his team, when one after another, they'd faltered. He'd shrugged off Ducky's concern and his offer of a sympathetic ear. And he'd shut himself away again that night, this time not fighting to block the images of murdered children he didn't know, but rather the memories of the young girl he had known and loved, and lost too soon. That night he drank to drown his rage.

He supposed it was inevitable that the case would dredge up all the pain and anger he'd felt when Shannon and Kelly had been murdered. There had just been too many similarities for that not to have happened. So he'd approached the problem the same way he always had, by spending time in the basement, and numbing himself with bourbon when it got too much for him to bear. What he'd neglected to take into account was that he wasn't by himself anymore. Tony was there. He'd shut him out though, at first in an attempt to spare him any additional worry and pain, and then later because it had become a habit. Neither was a good excuse, even if they were the reasons. He was going to need to explain that to Tony when he was better, and do the one thing he found hardest to do; apologize. That decided, he relaxed, and before he could even sit back in the chair, he fell asleep.

When Tony woke up, he could feel Gibbs' hand on his stomach. He loved to wake up to that. It was such a small thing really, but it gave him a sense of connection. It never failed to remind him he wasn't alone, and it made him feel secure and loved. Lying there, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that way. He could hear Gibbs' breathing, and knew he was asleep. He was making the little stuttering sounds that were as close as he ever got to snores. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to find Gibbs' head resting on the rail of his bed. There was no way that could be comfortable. He thought about waking him, and then he remembered how shocked he'd been when he had really studied him earlier. Gibbs had looked so tired. Even when he'd smiled down at him, Tony had been able to see the tension etched into his face. Better a stiff neck and sore back, Tony decided, than Gibbs collapsing from exhaustion.

He lifted his right hand, and placed it over the one Gibbs had resting on his belly, gently holding it in place. Then he reached out with his left hand, ignoring the stabs of pain moving his arm caused, and lightly caressed the side of Gibbs' face. He ghosted his fingers along the skin, mapping out the plains of the older man's features, savoring the feel of each crease and fold. Tony loved every wrinkle on Gibbs' face, each one a symbol of the multitude of experiences that had combined to make him the man he now was. They weren't imperfections to Tony; they were the essence of Gibbs' character. They spoke of bravery, and wisdom, and endurance. Just like the silver of his hair, which seemed so appropriate, the metallic sheen that reminded Tony of armor, the physical manifestation of his inner strength. Sometimes, back when things had been better, Tony would lie awake at night and watch Gibbs, studying the expressions he would make when he was asleep, and wonder what he was dreaming about, especially when a smile would sneak across his lips. He liked to think Gibbs was thinking about him, but it didn't really matter all that much to him. It was enough to know that something had made him happy, and that knowledge always helped him to fall into a restful sleep.

That was how Nurse Karen found them, when she came in to check on Tony; Gibbs sleeping with his head pressed against the bed, and Tony asleep, his left hand threaded through the railing and cupping Gibbs' neck. Their right hands were joined and resting on Tony's stomach. She smiled when she saw them. That explained a lot, she thought. Backing out as quietly as possible, she went to the linen closet and pulled out an extra pillow and blanket. Much as she hated to disturb the older NCIS agent, she knew she couldn't leave him like that. The poor man wouldn't be able to move his head in the morning if he spent all night in that position. She didn't have the heart, however, to suggest he go back out to the waiting room and stretch out in one of the recliners. Her patient was resting peacefully, and so was he.

Once she got back into the room, she touched to older man lightly on the shoulder, and was startled when his eyes immediately shot open.

"Shhh….it's just me, Karen, the nurse," she whispered to assure him, as he reached up and began to gently lift Tony's hand from his neck. "I brought you a pillow and a blanket. I know that chair isn't overly comfortable, but they should help a little."

By now he had his other hand free, as well, and was starting to stiffly straighten himself up. He had to work to bite back a groan when his back caught as he worked to realign his spine. "Wasn't really sleeping," he grunted at her.

She barely managed to hide her grin, and instantly liked him even better because of that remark. It had been such a universally male thing to say. Her husband spent many nights sitting on their recliner, 'resting his eyes.' She had no idea what gene it was that prompted men to deny their need for the occasional nap, but it was clearly a dominant one.

"Of course not," she agreed. "But it's going to be a long night, and you may well want to get a little sleep. Mr. DiNozzo seems to be sleeping very comfortably, and I doubt if he'll wake up again until closer to morning. Could I get you anything, some water or a coffee?"

"Coffee would be good," he said. He was beginning to feel like a junkie going into withdrawal. Dinner had been a long time ago, and he hadn't had a caffeine fix since then.

"One coffee coming up. How do you like it?" she inquired.

"Black, and strong," he told her with a grateful smile.

"Then you're in luck. Strong is the only way we brew it up here," she grinned back.

While she was gone, Gibbs positioned the pillow behind his back, hoping a little lumbar support would counteract the kinks that had developed earlier. He left the blanket sitting on his lap. Tony was sound asleep, but what he could see of his face looked peaceful and contented. He scooted his chair a little closer, so he could still reach Tony's hand, even while sitting back. He'd just got himself situated when Karen returned with the coffee.

"Here you go, Agent," she said, handing him the cup.

"Just Gibbs," he told her.

"Gibbs it is," she smiled. "I'll be back later to check on you both. He seems to be doing much better though. All of his vitals are looking good, and he doesn't seem to be having much trouble with the ventilator."

"Do you think they'll be able to move him out of here soon?" he asked her.

"I can't be sure, and wouldn't want to make a promise that didn't come true," she answered. "I know they're going to want to continue monitoring his heart, since he went in to de-fib yesterday. But if everything continues to look this good, I wouldn't be surprised if he got transferred over to the step down ward sometime tomorrow."

That was the best news Gibbs had heard in a long time, and he couldn't keep from smiling in relief. "You really should try to get some sleep," she urged again. "He's going to be awake more tomorrow, and I bet he'll expect to be entertained." She gave him a friendly pat on the back, and took her leave.

Gibbs thought about what she'd said, 'he'll expect to be entertained' and wished that was true. Unfortunately, it wasn't. That was the ironic thing about Tony. He could talk a blue streak about anything or nothing, make endless movie references, crack jokes, if he thought it would lighten the mood and make others feel better. Yet he never seemed to expect people to do the same for him. That's why he'd been allowed to shut himself off, because Tony would never insist Gibbs pay attention to him. He'd stay out of the way; give him 'his space.' That was another thing that had to change. Tony had to feel free to express his own wants and desires. More importantly, he had to really believe that his needs were equally important, and right now, Gibbs was pretty sure he didn't. His list of things that needed fixing was getting longer and longer.

Gibbs fell asleep while pondering how he was going to approach things with Tony. At some point during the night, Karen came in and pulled the cover up over him, and safe and warm, both he and Tony slept for several hours. It was voices speaking in the room that woke Gibbs up, early the next morning.

"Good morning," said the doctor who'd helped with Tony the night before, when Gibbs sat up. Next to him stood a nurse and two others, both wearing lab coats, leading Gibbs to assume that they were doctors also. "We've just been reviewing Mr. DiNozzo's chart. Looks like he had a good night. Are you feeling better, today?" he asked, addressing that last question to Tony, who eagerly nodded his head.

Not the best source of information, Gibbs thought privately. Tony would say anything to get himself out of a hospital.

"That's good. I'm Dr. Bonner, and I'm your hospital internist," the doctor smiled. "The oxygen levels in your blood look good. We want to switch you to a nasal cannula and see how you tolerate that. If, after a couple of hours, everything still looks good, we're going to transfer you off this unit. Sound good?"

Tony nodded again, and pointed at the face mask.

"Sure, hang on. Let me get the cannula ready, and we'll switch you over. Then you can talk."

Everyone stood around, while the nurse set up the nasal cannula. When it was ready, the face mask was removed and the cannula was placed around Tony's head.

"There, bet that feels better," Dr. Bonner smiled down at Tony. "Would you like some ice chips to wet your mouth and throat?"

Tony started to nod in response, then, remembering he could speak again, managed to rasp out a "please." Once again the nurse sprang into action. When he'd had a couple of mouthfuls of the ice, he looked at the doctor and asked, "Can you tell me exactly what's wrong with me?"

"Of course," the doctor answered. He then proceeded to tell Tony about how he'd gone into cardiac arrest on the way to the hospital and the surgery that had been done to repair the damage from the stabbing. Tony listened to it all, never interrupting.

When the doctor fell silent, Tony asked, "Will there be any permanent damage to my shoulder or arm?"

"We're certainly hoping not," Dr. Bonner said. "You'll need some therapy when you've healed a bit, but the surgeons felt they were very successful. Given enough time, you should heal completely."

"And my heart? Why did it stop?" Tony wanted to know.

"I'll let Dr. Welding here answer that," Dr. Bonner said, indicating the woman standing next to him. "She's your attending cardiologist."

"Hello, Mr. DiNozzo," the woman said. "Actually, there are a couple of reasons why your heart could have stopped, and it's rather hard to pinpoint which was the real culprit. By the time the paramedics got to you, you had lost a great deal of blood. Massive blood loss can cause arrest. You were also in severe shock, which might also have brought on the incident. Sometimes the body just becomes so overtaxed, that it gives up and starts to shut down. We've been monitoring your heart for the last twenty-four hours, and have conducted a couple of EKGs and have found no abnormalities. So that's good news. As long as you don't have any further cardiac incidents while you're our guest, I think we're just going to have to chalk it up to shock or blood loss."

"So, no permanent damage there, either?" Tony pushed.

"Not that we're aware of," she told him. "We'll perform a few other tests when you're a little stronger, just to be sure, but if I were a betting woman, I'd say we aren't going to find anything wrong."

"So when can I go back to work?" he asked. That elicited laughs all around, from everyone but Tony, who looked deadly serious. Dr. Bonner sobered up when he realized Tony wasn't even smiling.

"It's going to be a while. I'm assuming your job is pretty physical. The wound will take a few weeks to heal, and then there's the therapy. For right now, you should just worry about getting better."

"But I could go back in a couple of weeks, if I don't go out in the field, right?" Tony asked.

Gibbs couldn't figure out why Tony was pressing so hard. He knew Tony didn't like hospitals, but this felt like more than that. "You in some kind of hurry to sit a desk?" he asked. "You hate not going out on calls."

"Just need to keep my eye on the rest of the team. I think McGee's gunning for my job," Tony cracked.

That had been a pretty lame deflection, Gibbs thought, although he didn't call Tony on it. He just added it to the list of things they were going to have to go over. Instead, he decided to play along. "Well, you can't keep 'em probies forever," he said, giving his best smirk.

"I can try," Tony answered, before he started coughing.

The nurse immediately stepped up to the bed. "Here," she said, holding a cup out to Tony. "Let's try a little ice again."

While Tony sucked on ice, trying to staunch the coughs, Gibbs looked at Dr. Bonner. "Is this coughing normal?" he asked in concern.

"Yes, especially given Mr. DiNozzo's medical history. It's a big change to move from being fully ventilated to having a cannula. He's not getting as much pure oxygen, and his lungs are having to work harder. Give him some time. There will probably be several rounds of coughing before everything starts to stabilize. He's going to be fine, Mr. Gibbs."

Gibbs relaxed his shoulders, which had stiffened when the coughing had begun.

"We need to check his dressings, and do a few other things," Dr. Bonner said to him. "I think it's safe to assume that Mr. DiNozzo is going to behave himself," he said, grinning over at Tony. Looking back at Gibbs, he suggested, "Why don't you take a break and grab a bite to eat? You can come back in to see him in about an hour."

He didn't want to leave, but he knew they'd already broken the rules of the ICU by letting him spend the night in the room. He couldn't push that any further. "Sounds like a plan," he told the doctor. Before he left, he turned to Tony. "Make sure you do behave, DiNozzo, or you'll find yourself back in arm restraints before you know what hit you," he said, which made Tony smile.

He glanced at his watch as he walked back to the waiting room, 0730. He couldn't believe he'd slept as long as he had, but knew it was probably a good thing. Although sleeping in a chair wasn't ideal, he did feel a thousand times better. He wasn't sure if that was just because of the sleep, however. Knowing Tony was going to be alright was just as likely to be the reason for his rejuvenation. When he walked in the room, he wasn't at all surprised to find Ducky sitting there, waiting for him. The way Ducky and Abby had rallied around him, offering silent support had been a humbling experience, and a reminder of what friends did for one another. It was a lesson he didn't intend to forget any time soon.

"Well?" the ME greeted him.

"He's going to be okay," Gibbs told him, with a smile.

"That is excellent news, Jethro. Not that I doubted it for a minute. He has too much to live for," Ducky told him, with a matching grin. "I take it he had a good night?"

"Yeah, and they've moved him off the ventilator and onto a nasal cannula. There's a good chance they're going to move him out of the ICU this morning."

"Wonderful!" Ducky said exuberantly. "You look better, too."

"Just got a second chance," Gibbs admitted.

"I doubt if you needed a second chance, Jethro. Be that as it may, though, perhaps you should hang on to that feeling. There are no guarantees in this life. We could lose those we care most for at any moment, especially given what we do for a living. All we can do is to make sure we have as few regrets as possible."

"That's exactly what I intend to do, Ducky," Gibbs said fervently, and Ducky gave his arm a quick squeeze of support.


	13. Chapter 13

"**No Bravery"**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Three hours later things had changed drastically. Gibbs was clean once again, and Tony was in his own room on the step down unit. The doctors had told Gibbs they still wanted to keep the number of visitors down to a bare minimum while Tony continued to get stronger, but that they had no objections to family and close personal friends making brief visits. Tony, for his part, saw the change as an indication that he was one mere step away from going home, completely ignoring the fact that he was still wearing a nasal cannula and hooked up to multiple IVs and monitors. Gibbs didn't see any reason to argue with him on the point, deciding time and the doctors would set him straight.

Gibbs was sitting in a chair next to the bed, listening to Tony talk. For someone who hadn't been able to speak for the last twenty-four hours, Tony was definitely making up for lost time. He had been yammering on almost nonstop for the last hour. Not that he was saying much, mostly he was telling Gibbs funny stories about previous hospitalizations, using them to point out why it would be better if he was discharged as soon as possible. Prior to this rant, he'd held forth on his favorite movies and television shows which had been set in hospitals. He didn't seem bothered by the fact it was basically a one-way conversation; if anything, he seemed determined to keep it that way. Every time it looked like Gibbs was going to do any real talking, Tony had seemed to tense, so finally Gibbs had decided to just let him carry on, figuring he'd wear himself out eventually, sooner rather than later, if the weariness on Tony's face was any indication. Tony had just launched into a story about an argument he and Brad Pitt had gotten into over pro football teams, when Gibbs' phone rang.

"Boss, it's McGee," his young agent said, when Gibbs answered.

"I know," Gibbs replied.

"Yeah, of course," McGee stuttered.

"Why'd you call, McGee?" Gibbs prodded.

"Oh, right. We just picked up Dietrich. He showed up outside his brother's house about a half hour ago. When he realized there wasn't anyone home, he broke in through a side window. We waited till he got inside, and then went in to get him."

Gibbs looked over at Tony, who was straining to hear what was being discussed. "They got Dietrich," he mouthed to him. Tony nodded at the news, then for some reason, his face seemed to lose all animation, as Gibbs asked McGee a few questions about what had happened. What the hell was that about, Gibbs wondered, as he only half listened to McGee recount the capture, while he watched Tony out of the corner of his eye. The apprehension seemed to have been rather uneventful, except for the moment Ziva had scared Dietrich so badly he'd peed in his pants.

"So, anyway, I've got him in interrogation one. When you gonna get here, Boss?" McGee asked.

By now Tony looked as if he'd stopped listening. His head was resting against the pillow again, and his head was turned partially away. His eyes were closed, but Gibbs knew he wasn't asleep. He didn't need a gut alert. Something was wrong.

"Not gonna," he told McGee.

"Um, sure. Guess we can just leave him in there to cool his heels for awhile," McGee replied. Gibbs could hear the confusion in his voice.

"Your collar. You and Ziva interview him. Right now I don't much care why he did what he did," Gibbs declared.

"Um, you sure about that?" McGee asked, not believing what he was hearing.

"Yes, I'm sure," Gibbs snapped, knowing Tony was listening even though he was busily engaged in pretending he was asleep. "Got something more important to do," he grunted, and disconnected.

Tony continued to lie there, and Gibbs sat in the chair, trying to figure out what was going on and what he should say.

"You need to do the interview. McGee's gonna be freaked out, and Ziva might kill him," Tony finally said, not opening his eyes to look at Gibbs.

"Don't care. Meant what I said. I've got somewhere else I need to be," Gibbs told him quietly.

"You should probably go then," Tony muttered.

"Tony, look at me," Gibbs ordered, and waited until Tony sighed, opened his eyes, and looked at him. His face was absolutely expressionless, and his eyes closed off. It was the face he'd been wearing most of the time these past few months, Gibbs realized with a start. He'd just forgotten what it looked like, since he hadn't seen it for the last couple of days. Or maybe it was more accurate to say he'd tried to forget it, now that he was paying attention again.

"I was talking about here. This is the somewhere more important I need to be," he said, working hard to hide how shocked he was that Tony actually thought he would just abandon him, while he went to do something else. Of course, he shouldn't be surprised, he chastised himself. He'd essentially been leaving Tony all alone for weeks now, even if they were living in the same house.

Tony was looking at him, his guard still up. Gibbs couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Yeah, well I'm fine. Really. You don't need to sit here. I'm not going anywhere," he told him.

"But I want to be here, Tony," he answered. Maybe the talking wouldn't wait, he thought. Tony was doing better, and it scared Gibbs that his first reaction was to close back down. Guilt infused him. He was the reason for that, he knew, so it was going to be up to him to make things better.

"Need to sleep," Tony muttered softly, closing his eyes and turning his face away again.

"Go ahead. I'll be right here," Gibbs assured him. He could see Tony's shoulders tense, but he didn't open his eyes back up, or respond. That was alright, Gibbs decided. He could wait.

Tony lay in the bed, part of him willing Gibbs away, and the other part hoping he never left. Two months ago he'd have given anything to hear Gibbs say something like that. Now he wondered if Gibbs was only responding to some sense of obligation or duty. He wanted things back the way they used to be, but not because Gibbs felt sorry for him, or even worse, somehow responsible for the wreck he now was. He wanted Gibbs to love him, and enjoy being with him, the way he once had, the way he'd remembered when he'd been in the coma. But someone had once told him you can never go back to the way things used to be, and after the last few months, he had started to believe that.

He thought he'd been so careful with this relationship. He hadn't wanted it to go sour the way the others in the past had. It was too important to him; Gibbs was too important. He'd tried so hard not to seem needy or demanding. He'd let Gibbs set the pace and lay down the ground rules. He knew Gibbs' track record wasn't much better than his, and he didn't want to do anything that might push him away. He thought his strategy had worked. They'd been happy together for years, despite all the ugliness they dealt with in their jobs. When Gibbs had started to withdraw, he'd given him his space and contented himself with waiting until Gibbs moved past whatever was bothering him. He clamped down the urge to go to his lover and ask what was wrong and how he could help over and over again, knowing Gibbs didn't like touchy feely scenes. Instead he'd focused on work. He knew how to please Gibbs at work, so he'd redoubled his efforts to be the best lead agent NCIS had ever seen. He'd even started to win Vance over, and yet Gibbs hadn't seemed to care. He'd started spending as little time as possible in the bullpen. All of the team had been affected by his withdrawal, and Tony had had to work harder than ever to keep them together. Tony wasn't ready to give up on that plan, though. He'd gotten Gibbs attention once by being a good agent; he was convinced he could do it again, given enough time.

And now this had happened. He'd let Dietrich get the better of him, and he was going to be off active duty for weeks. How was he going to sit in that house alone all day, week after week, without knowing what was happening with Gibbs out in the field? And what would it be like when Gibbs came home at night and went back down to the basement, leaving Tony with no way to prove himself to him again?

Gibbs sat watching Tony's face. He wasn't buying the sleeping act. There was no way Tony was asleep. His lips were drawn tight, and he could tell that Tony had his teeth clenched, as if he were forcing himself to keep from talking. He could feel Tony's internal monologue, even if he couldn't hear it. He knew if he didn't say something, force the conversation, things would slip back into the vacuum that had existed before. He couldn't allow that to happen.

"I know you aren't asleep," he said softly. Tony's face twitched, giving him away and confirming Gibbs' suspicions. "You don't have to talk, just listen to me though. I know I screwed up," he started and then stopped when Tony's eyes flew open.

"No, you didn't," Tony objected, before he could get another word out.

"Yeah, I did," he said a bit more forcefully. "I've made so many mistakes it's hard to remember them all. And it started way back when this whole thing began." He stopped for a minute, trying to decide how to proceed.

'It started way back when this whole thing began.' That was exactly what Tony had been afraid of, what he'd been dreading hearing. Gibbs regretted their relationship. That explained why he'd frozen him out. He'd been waiting for Tony to leave. Trying to maintain as much dignity as possible, he said, "It's okay. I get it. You don't need to say anything more. I'll move out as soon as they release me."

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Gibbs couldn't help himself. The question just slipped out. Tony's remarks had so floored him, that all of his plans on how to approach 'the talk' had completely deserted him. "You're not going anywhere!"

"I'm not?" Tony squeaked.

"No! Of all the stupid…..How could you even think…." he managed to sputter out, before he propelled himself out of the chair and began pacing around the room. Taking a deep breath, he tried to get a hold of himself, and turned back around to look at Tony. If the situation were different, he would have found the look on Tony's face amusing, but as it was, it only served to make him madder. Not at Tony, but at himself. Tony was staring at him, totally confused, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. Had his mouth had been moving, he'd have looked like a goldfish in a bowl.

Gibbs crossed back over to the bed, put his hands on the bed rail, and leaned in. "I don't want you going anywhere. Not now, and not ever. I love you. Got that?" he barked, his mind still churning as he struggled to figure out what to say.

Tony nodded mutely.

"Good," he grunted. "But some things have to change, and it isn't because of something you've done anything wrong. It's because of me, and what I haven't done."

Tony didn't answer. He didn't really know how to respond to that. Apparently he'd read Gibbs completely wrong. This was also the first time anyone had ever told him they loved him when they were also obviously furious. The weird thing about that was he actually believed Gibbs more this time than ever before. He was just going to have to keep his mouth shut, and see how this played out.

"Look," Gibbs said. "I'm not good about sharing what I'm thinking or feeling," and then, as if to prove it, he fell silent again. He reached up and ran a hand through his hair, as he struggled for the right words. "These past two days have shown me that I take the people around me for granted, and that includes you."

That was too much for Tony. "I never thought you took me for granted," he protested.

"I do it all the time, Tony," Gibbs said. "I just assume you'll know what I'm thinking, even though I don't give you a single clue. I expect you to pick up the slack for me at work, to be the backbone for the rest of the team, while I neglect them. I let myself pull away from you, so I don't have to talk about what's bothering me, and never think about how that makes you feel. And, I don't ask you what's going on in your head, even when I know you're upset about something. If that isn't taking someone for granted, I don't know what is."

"I don't mind any of that," Tony started to say, but Gibbs cut him off.

"Well, you should. It should piss you off." The conversation wasn't going at all like Gibbs had planned when he'd started to make his list of things they needed to discuss. "That's something else we need to talk about. Why did you let me get away with all this shit?"

Now Gibbs was glaring at him, and Tony knew he was going to have to answer that question. But what was he going to say? Maybe he could come up with some joke to diffuse the situation, to deflect, but he discovered he didn't want to. Suddenly, all the things he'd secretly wanted to say just bubbled to the surface.

"Because it's what you expected me to do." He couldn't believe he'd just said that, and yet he found himself continuing on. "I knew how it had been with your ex-wives. You told me once they demanded too much of your time, wanted things you couldn't give them. I didn't want to become the former Mr. Gibbs; you mean too much to me. I wasn't about to risk trying to force you to talk to me, and inadvertently pushing you away instead. I may not be a relationship expert, but I'm not stupid enough to make the exact same mistakes someone else has made, when they've been pointed out to me." It was Tony's turn to stop talking and stare defiantly.

"Yeah, well, you forgot one big, significant difference. I didn't love them like I love you," Gibbs all but yelled. Somehow the talk had devolved into their first real fight.

"How was I supposed to know that? Mental telepathy?" Tony shocked himself by snapping back.

That was a fair point, Gibbs had to concede. Hadn't he just gotten done admitting he hadn't been very forthright with Tony? "You could have asked," was his rather lame rejoinder.

"Oh yeah. 'So tell me, Jethro, do you love me more than all those redheaded women you entered into serial marriages with?' Is that what you think I should have asked?" Tony had no idea why he was so angry, but now that he'd started, he just couldn't seem to stop. "Or maybe you wanted me to demand proclamations of love before I let you fuck me? Would that have worked for you? 'Cause I have to tell you, it wouldn't have done it for me. Do you think I'd believe anything someone said, when all they really wanted to do was get their rocks off?"

That was low, they both knew it, and for a moment they froze and just looked at each other, neither one trusting themselves to say anything more. They were spared by the timely appearance of a nurse, who came into the room to check on Tony's vitals. While she fussed over Tony, who answered all her questions with as few words as possible, Gibbs moved away from the bed and tried to pull himself together.

He'd been worried earlier that Tony hadn't felt free to express himself, but they had moved past that now. The problem he was having, aside from the fact he'd let his temper get away from him, was that he wasn't sure how to deal with what Tony had just said. Since they'd never really had an argument like this, he couldn't tell how much of what Tony had just said was merely spoken in anger, and how much of it was something he truly believed. When the nurse left, the room became oppressively quiet. Each little ping from the monitors sounded as loud as a warning siren, and Gibbs could hear himself breathing. The tension was palpable.

"I never wanted to just 'get my rocks off' with you," Gibbs said quietly as he walked back over to where Tony lay. "Not the first time, and not any other."

"I know that," Tony sighed. "I didn't mean what I said."

"Every single time, I was making love, not fucking." It was imperative to Gibbs that he made sure Tony understood that.

"I'm sorry for getting mad," Tony began.

"Don't apologize," Gibbs stopped him. "Not because it makes you weak, but because you had every right to get angry. I had just got done saying I purposely shut you away from what I was thinking and feeling, and then demanded to know why you didn't know how I felt about you. That wasn't exactly logical or fair."

"No, it wasn't," Tony agreed. "But neither was what I accused you of. So, we just had our first really big fight."

"Guess so," Gibbs said with a small smile.

"Does that mean we get to have mad make-up sex?" Tony grinned back.

"That might be kinda awkward right now. Would you settle for a kiss?"

"I guess, as long as I get a rain check for the other thing," Tony told him cheekily.

Gibbs bent over the bed and gently brushed his lips across Tony's, but Tony wasn't settling for that. Reaching his good arm up, he encircled the back of Gibbs' head with his hand and pressed, forcing Gibbs into a deeper, more prolonged kiss. When he finally released him, he looked up at Gibbs and said, "Now I do want a rain check. I'm not willing to have another fight like this, just so we can have wild monkey sex."

Gibbs laughed, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out the little notepad he'd made a habit of carrying years before. Extracting the pen that was shoved into the spiral coils, he flipped open the cover and started writing.

Tony watched Gibbs. It was taking him a long time to write a simple IOU. Even more puzzling was the fact that occasionally he would stop and think before he resumed writing. When he'd filled the front side, he flipped the paper over and continued writing on the back. Finally he was done, and he ripped out the page and handed it to Tony.

_"This IOU entitles the bearer the right to always demand to know what's going on with me. It also obligates me to be completely truthful in my answers. Furthermore, it gives him permission to kick my butt when I start to ignore those people who care about me and worry for me. And on top of all that, it serves as my promise to make up for any fight we might have in the most physical way possible. Love, Leroy Jethro Gibbs."_

Tony reread the piece of paper twice, before he spoke. Then, when he did, he merely looked up at Gibbs, gazed at his face, gave his most genuine smile, and simply said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Gibbs told him. He then surprised Tony by handing him the pad of paper and the pen.

"What's this for?" Tony asked, puzzled.

"I want you to write me one, too," Gibbs told him. "I want you to promise that you won't retreat into a shell whenever I start acting like a bastard. That you'll hold me to the promises in my IOU, and that you'll always remember that you are the most important thing in my life. Can you do that?"

Tony didn't answer, he just began to write. It didn't take him as long as Gibbs, and he didn't write as much, and when he was finished, he handed the pad back.

_"I promise to always remember that I love Jethro Gibbs, and that he loves me. And that we both need to do everything we can to preserve that. As long as we do that, we'll be fine. Love, Anthony Michael DiNozzo,"_ Gibbs read.

"So, did we just get married?" Tony quipped.

"Hardly," Gibbs snorted. "I suck at marriage, but this is something I know I can do. With your help."

"So, will you hang on to my IOU for me until I get out of here?" Tony asked.

"Yep," Gibbs agreed.

"I want it back the minute I have my wallet back, though," Tony cautioned. "I'm gonna need it when we get home."

"I don't think you'll really need to pull out a piece of paper to get what you want, but you can have it back anyway. I want you to always have it handy, just in case," Gibbs smiled.

They settled down after that. It hadn't been the talk Gibbs had envisioned them having, but the most important things had been said. The rest could wait. They'd work it out as they went along.

Tony was watching some sitcom on the television and Gibbs was sitting beside him, holding his hand, when Ziva and McGee burst into the room later that afternoon. When they came in, Tony tried to pull his hand away from Gibbs', but the older man just tightened his grip and refused to let go. "Not anymore," he said quietly to Tony, gave the hand a quick squeeze, still holding tight, and then turned his attention to his other two agents.

McGee was flushed with success, and started talking immediately upon entering the room. Ziva was quieter, and more observant. She immediately noted their hands, and while McGee began to regale them with the story of Dietrich's interrogation, her eyes sought out Gibbs. When their eyes locked, she gave a little nod of her head and then smiled. Gibbs nodded back. One down, he thought privately to himself.

McGee continued his account. He'd told them all about how they'd learned that Dietrich's buddies hadn't been completely honest with them, when they'd spoken with them. Apparently, Dietrich had developed quite a drug problem, and he'd covered it up by having his friends pee for him when the Navy conducted routine urine tests. The fight in the bar had been because his friends had informed him that they were done doing that. He'd just snapped when he heard that. The crack he was addicted to made him paranoid and irrational. He'd tried to talk to his friends on the phone the next day, begging them to help him out, both financially and with his superiors. They'd refused, since they were frightened by how crazy he had sounded. He'd been at the Naval Yard that day, hoping to talk his half brother out of some money, and when Tony had come out and reacted to him, Dietrich had flipped out and run. By the time Tony followed him down the alley, Dietrich was so out of it that he decided Tony was trying to kill him. He was still ranting about it when McGee and Ziva interrogated him. It hadn't taken all that much to make his buddies come clean after that, McGee told him.

He was just winding down when he finally realized how Tony and Gibbs were sitting. In true McGee style, he wasn't able to smoothly hide his surprise. He stuttered over his words, and looked away in embarrassment. Again Tony tried to pull his hand away, and Gibbs continued to refuse to release it. "You okay, McGee?" Gibbs asked him, no more gruffly than was his usual.

"Um, yeah, sorry. Just got ahead of myself," the younger agent stammered.

"Don't apologize," Gibbs said. "You and Ziva did good today. You should be proud." McGee looked back at him in surprise.

"Our Probie's growing up," Tony said, adopting the tone of a proud parent.

"Shut up, Tony," McGee said, refusing to let Tony ruin the pleasure Gibbs' praise had given him, and completely forgetting what had thrown him for a loop.

Gibbs started to ask Ziva and McGee questions then, about Dietrich and how they had left things back at Headquarters. Before long, they had all fallen back into their old pattern of Tony cracking jokes, Ziva or McGee sassing him back, and Gibbs ignoring the whole thing. Gibbs never let go of Tony's hand, and Tony stopped trying to pull away. As the visit continued, Gibbs began to relax in a way he hadn't in months. He and Tony were going to be alright, and so was the team. They hadn't instantly solved all their problems, but the critical first steps had been taken. Given time, and a little effort, things would soon be back to normal, he thought, and then he corrected himself. Given a little time, things would be better than ever. Tony had his IOU, and he had Tony's. Together, they would make sure that was the case. As he settled back in the chair, he gave Tony's hand a little squeeze as he let his team's bantering wash over him, and give him strength.

~~~~ finis~~~~


End file.
